


you are my sunshine (my only sunshine)

by espressohno



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Charles is a Teacher, Dialogue Heavy, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Schmoop, dorky kindergarten teacher Charles Xavier, humor me on this okay, somehow Erik Lehnsherr is good at children's literature, there is so much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 40,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4135383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espressohno/pseuds/espressohno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“I’m Charles. Charles Xavier.” He held out a hand. Something must have clicked because the man’s face seemed to soften.</em>
</p><p>  <em>“Erik Lehnsherr.” Mr. Lehnsherr balanced the books on one arm and shook his hand. It was firm and warm and Charles had to remind himself to exhale quietly. He once again focused his attention on the books instead of what was actually happening, and he froze.</em></p><p>  <em>“Wait a minute.” Charles picked up the first book. The cover had a very simple drawing of a country and some people smiling, as well as the title Suppertime in Germany.</em></p><p>  <em>And underneath the title was: by Erik Lehnsherr.</em></p><p>X-Men au where Charles Xavier, soon to be kindergarten teacher, runs into children's book author Erik Lehnsherr in the crowded kids' section of a Barnes & Noble. while Erik happens to be in the midst of buying a collection of his own books. (it's not an ego thing)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the one where they meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [wu_xie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/wu_xie/pseuds/wu_xie) is working on translating this fic into Chinese [here](http://wuxiever.lofter.com/post/1e322efb_b891907)  
>  and you can follow me on tumblr [here](http://espressohnope.tumblr.com/)

Charles huffed. He was standing in the middle of the children’s section in a very crowded Barnes and Noble, with a headache and a deadline and no idea what to buy for his new kindergarten class. The school year started in two days, and somehow after years of volunteer work and teaching school and assistant teaching jobs, he still felt like once that bell rang on Monday he would somehow manage to fuck everything up.

A little girl with blue ribbons in her hair and a Captain America action figure in her tiny hand sprinted past Charles and rammed into the leg of the poor fellow standing a few feet away. The girl promptly stuttered and apology and fled, leaving Charles and the stranger and a pile of books that had fallen during the hit-and-run. Charles bent over to help pick up the books.

“Children, right?” He laughed, but there was an unintentional grimness to it as he realized that small children running around was in his very near, very inevitable future. The man squatted down next to him and Charles’s brain lagged when he finally looked up. Shiny black dress shoes, fitted gray slacks, large hands, light blue shirt. Charles realized that, thanks to a height difference, he was staring at the second button, where the shirt opened to reveal a small amount of tan skin. He hastily looked back down at the books.

When they effectively got them oriented into a single stack Charles handed them back and stood up, almost knocking heads. He tried not to stare at the man’s face. It was an incredible face, though, sharp jaw and soft eyes under and intimidating set of eyebrows, dark blond hair that was slicked back from his forehead; he looked way too fancy and too pissed off to be shopping for children’s literature at nine pm. There was no way this man had children.

“So, are these good, then?” Charles gestured to the books. From the looks of it, they all belonged in a set. The spines were formatted in the same way, but all of the different colors formed a nice pastel rainbow when they were lined up.

He looked down at Charles, furrowing his brow in a way that could have been seen as either confusion or annoyance, or both. Charles blinked and tried again.

“Sorry, I’m trying to find some new releases--I’m a teacher--or I will be, in two days. It’s my first real class, and I want to read something other than Red Fish Blue Fish, but I’m afraid I can’t seem to find anything that isn’t either a bastardization of previous classics or another parent-child ‘I Love You’ story.” Charles was rambling, he knew it. He always rambled when he was stressing, and this man seemed to be offended or...something, his face was difficult to read. Charles figured he should just give up and go home and come back later. Instead he said,

“I’m Charles. Charles Xavier.” He held out a hand. Something must have clicked because the man’s face seemed to soften.

“Erik Lehnsherr.” Mr. Lehnsherr balanced the books on one arm and shook his hand. It was firm and warm and Charles had to remind himself to exhale quietly. He once again focused his attention on the books instead of what was actually happening, and he froze.

“Wait a minute.” Charles picked up the first book. The cover had a very simple drawing of a country and some people smiling, as well as the title _Suppertime in Germany_.

And underneath the title was: _by Erik Lehnsherr_.

“These are--”

Erik sighed.

“They’re mine, yes. Not that--I’m not, that is to say--this isn’t an ego thing, or anything.” Charles made the connection between Erik and Germany, noting the roughness with which he spoke. Even as the man floundered trying to explain himself, Charles felt himself become more and more interested.

“It’s alright, my friend, I would probably do the same.”

Erik nodded once, his eyes flickering with gratification for a moment before returning to suspicion. He didn’t seem to be looking for an escape, so Charles carried on.

“Anyway, the books. What range, would you say? Can I read these to five year olds?” He thumbed through Suppertime in Germany, noting that it mixed a lesson about German culture with bilingual text. It wasn’t a very wordy book, and some of the German translations even he could recognize just from traveling and such.

“That’s actually the target with this series. I’m working with a new linguistic education group. We’re trying to get multilingual education started in elementary school instead of middle school, when children’s minds are more open to picking up languages.”

Charles looked up from the book at the right time, apparently, because Erik had rested the books back on the shelf and was speaking fervently, his hands moving in sharp gestures.

“Ideally, in the future, we’ll have created an entire thirteen-year system, although somehow I think I might be stuck writing children’s books. We considered trying to partner with school districts, seeing as their language programs are honestly beyond redemption.”

“Let me guess, no response?”

“How did you know?”

Charles breathed out a laugh.

“I’ve been in and out of school districts. I can honestly say that, at this point, any email that isn’t a crime report or another donation is sent to junk mail.”

“See, that’s the problem with these people,” Erik handed the stack to Charles and picked out another for himself, “they reject any help from the public, and then complain that they’re on their own, and then spend half of the budget on the athletic department.”

The two of them started walking towards the checkout.

“I think you’ll find that it’s a good deal more complicated than that, my friend.”

“Charles, walk into any mediocre high school French class and ask how many of the students want to be bilingual. All of them do. It’s not that students don’t care, it’s that the whole system of language classes in public school is based off of textbooks and worksheets that don’t even teach anything substantial.”

“Alright that, I can agree with.” Charles recalled acing AP French IV with flying colors, and yet he still wasn’t able to get past _combien coûte_ and _je n'ai rien à déclarer_.

The checkout line was short enough that they immediately separated to go to different registers. Charles walked outside with his shopping bag and found Erik waiting for him. Just seeing Erik, leaning against one of the rough stone columns with his fancy clothes and his tall, lean figure, Charles felt his insides leap again. He tried to shake it off, insisting that it was probably just his mind’s attempt at an emotional outlet for his stress.

“We should talk again.” Erik said, “I want to know if the books are any good.”

“What makes you think I’m a decent critic for children’s literature?”

“Oh, no, I don’t care if you like them, I mean your kindergarteners. You’ll read them to the class, right?”

“Well, yes.”

“Perfect.” He grinned, his mouth almost taking up half his face, but he seemed no less irritated than he was earlier. “Wonderful. I must know how it goes. I have a card.” Erik opened his wallet and handed Charles a business card. Charles took it, feeling irrationally relieved that he’ll have a good reason to see this person again.

“I’ll be sure to give you a full report.”

Charles gave Erik a smile that usually works to leave a warm, if partially flirtatious, impression. He considered adding a wink for good measure, but quickly realized that a wink would be a horrible idea and walked to his car in the dark parking lot. He wasn’t positive, but he could have sworn that the motorcyclist that sped past him in the exit was Erik.

He smiled during the entire drive home without realizing it.

-

The classroom visit on Sunday afternoon went better than expected, probably because the children never left their parent’s side. Charles had memorized a two minute autobiography to deliver, followed by a three to four minute course description. He never thought he’d find himself standing in front of his bathroom mirror rehearsing, in great seriousness, the lines _playtime happens at the beginning and end of the school day, with recess and naptime in between lessons, and lunch at eleven_. He’d probably said it about a thousand times, wondering if his voice was maybe too British. What if the parents complained that their children were developing accents? Oh, god.

After the first hour of meeting families and giving tours around his tiny, multicolored classroom with racetrack rugs, the principal announced over loudspeaker that there would be a school-wide showcase of the library, and his room cleared out for a little while. Moira McTaggert, whose classroom was connected to Charles’ by a side door, came in with two styrofoam cups.

Charles sighed and sat down at one of the child-sized tables. She joined him, smiling impishly.

“Oh, come off it.” He took a large sip. Black coffee wasn’t really his thing, but at this point in the day it tasted almost comforting.

“You remind me of my first year, is all. Don’t worry, it gets easier.”

Charles smiled.

“After you’ve hit rock bottom, of course.”

Moira laughed and Charles frowned into his coffee again. As far as neighbors go, though, he felt he’d lucked out. During his year of assistant teaching, the woman next door was absolutely terrifying, with gray-brown hair and a permanently ticked-off expression. He found himself hiding from her as often as the students did.

But Moira was lovely. She had only been teaching for four years but she met with Charles during the summer to help him plan out his curriculum, always smiling and laughing and insisting that he would do a great job.

“I’m excited.” Charles said before he could stop himself.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.” Moira let her shoulders relax, eyes scanning around the classroom. It was funny, he thought, to see grown ups sitting in tiny chairs at tiny tables, their knees bent at sharp angles. Charles considered decorating his room with bright, primary colors, just like expected, but he was satisfied with his last minute decision to go with more muted tones. At the very least, the light blues and pinks and yellows made him feel calmer. He hoped it would work on the children as well.

“I like your setup,” She said, “very soothing. And the garden theme is clever.”

“They probably won’t appreciate the time I put into interior design,” Charles laughed, looking at the big bulletin board full of cutesy construction-paper insects that would soon have names on them. “but they’ll at least enjoy being able to write their name on an insect that isn’t a bumblebee for once.”

“Hey! I did sea creatures.”

He hummed, “I don’t know if you’ve seen Mrs. Garcia’s room this year…”

“Of course I have,” she lowered her voice, “do you want to know a secret?”

Charles leaned in, nodding.

“Two years ago she bought five hundred of those bumblebees. I think her plan is to use them until she retires.” Moira sighed, leaned back, and finished her coffee, “I hope I never get like that. I don’t want to see these kids as just a job. Or a checklist, or whatever. Because theses years are so important, you know? When you’re five years old, school teaches you more than just reading and writing, you learn how to identify yourself. I don’t want my students to feel like,”

“Like a number.” Charles finished, nodding in agreement.

“Exactly. I’m so glad you’re here, Charles. I was beginning to feel like the only one left who cared about this kind of thing.”

Charles reached out and rested his hand on Moira’s shoulder.

“You and me, Moira. Education crusaders in the middle of right-wing suburbia.”

“Right!” She pumped a fist in the air triumphantly. They both stood up from the table. It was almost time for the last wave of visitors. Charles smoothed down his shirt, ran a hand through his hair, jogged in place for a little bit. He went through his intro again: _My name is Charles Xavier, I studied Sociology at Oxford with an emphasis in Child Development, went to Columbia to get my teaching license, yes I’m English, but I was raised in the states, and no I won’t brainwash your child with anti-US propaganda. Yes I love glitter glue._

The murmur of parents and children started getting louder and Moira opened the door to her room, giving Charles a thumbs up and an over-excited Show time!

He put on his best smile.

-

_Day one_ , Charles thought, looking in the mirror. He had gone through about twenty possible outfits before finally settling on a light blue button up (which immediately reminded him of one Erik Lehnsherr), a dark blue cardigan, and khakis. Early September in Austin was definitely not cardigan weather, but he figured he could always take layers off and roll up his sleeves.

Before leaving his apartment, he picked up the books he bought earlier and made sure they were all there, with _Xavier, Juniper Elementary_ written inside the cover. It turned out to be a rather adorable series, which included: Suppertime in Germany, Lunchtime in France, Breakfast Time in Italy, Playtime in Sweden, Tea Time in England (Charles laughed at that one), and Dessert Time in China. He had to learn some pronunciations to say the simple phrases, but he looked forward to reading one of them to the class.

His morning commute was shorter than expected, and Charles found himself pacing back and forth in the room, occasionally straightening up the bookshelves or the table or the bulletin boards for the thousandth time. He was sweating enough that he’d already ditched the cardigan.

Finally, a knock on the door that led to Moira’s room.

“Oh, thank goodness, come in.”

Moira walked in, smiling. She was wearing a darling green striped dress, looking every bit the part of kindergarten teacher.

“Nerves?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I think I have an idea.”

She walked over and scooped Charles into a hug, which helped him to stop fretting a little. He exhaled some of his anxiety into Moira’s shoulder.

“Do you have any words of wisdom for me?”

Moira held him out at arm’s length, looking contemplative.

“Let’s see...no glitter on the first day, remember to give the class a rough agenda at the beginning, teach them how to sit in a circle, and try to save any stress crying for your lunch break.”

Charles laughed.

-

“Alright, little ones.” Charles attempted to speak above the chatter of the classroom. His class turned out to only be sixteen students, but it felt like an army of five year olds, all running around and yelling and grabbing at one another. He was most worried about two students, Hank, who had spent half of the day isolated from the rest of the group, and Ororo, who was almost a year younger but had managed to intimidate every boy in the class into leaving her alone. Other than that, Charles was at least relieved that there hadn’t been any injuries.

Finally he resorted to whistling through his teeth, two fingers in the corners of his mouth.

“Hey!” He said, once all of them stopped and looked up at him, “I bet all of you are super smart, right?”

Some of them nodded.

“I want to see how fast you can all--nope, not yet, stay right there--I want to see how fast all of you can walk over to the polka-dot rug and sit in a circle.” Charles bent over and lowered his voice as they watched, captivated, “I bet, you can do it even quicker than Miss Moira’s class. Are you ready?”

More nods. At this point Charles was just relying on stroking their egos to get them to do what he wanted.

“Ready? Go!”

All twenty two of them, with Hank trailing behind, scurried onto the polka dot rug. Ororo didn’t hesitate to attempt to direct them into a more presentable circle. She reached the obstacle of Alex Summers (younger sibling of one of Moira’s previous students) and Armando Muñoz (definitely a future athlete, from the looks of it) wrestling over who got to sit on the blue dot.

Charles settled on his chair in the circle, in front of the bookshelf.

“Alex? Why don’t you come sit next to me? There’s another blue dot right here.”

Alex gave up fighting with Armando and crawled next to Charles. He was thankful for the little victories.

“Very nice circle, very nice. And Ororo, thank you for helping us out. Now,” He clapped his hands together, “who here is excited for lunch today, huh?”

They all chattered excitedly.

“Okay, alright, okay, quiet down.” He waved his hands around a little, “If all of you can be extra quiet for me, I’d like to read you a very special story about lunch. This story happens in France.”

One of the girls, Marie, raised her hand, her arm shaking a little bit.

“Marie?”

“What is France?”

“What is France?” Charles grinned and stood up, “France is a country, just like America. We all live in America, but some people, just like us, live in France.”

He pulled down the big world map he had installed in the room, much to Mrs. Garcia’s disdain, and pointed to America.

“Is that France?” Armando chimed in.

“No, this is where we are. This is America. Do you want to see France?”

There was a chorus of _yes_ ’s and a couple _yes please_ ’s. Charles moved his hand, sort of like an airplane, across the Atlantic and onto France, which was colored in bright yellow.

“This is France. Can everyone say France?”

“France!”

“America!”

“Who said that?” The class giggled, some of them pointing at Alex. Charles put his hands on his hips, pretending to look frustrated.

“Alright Alex, which one do you think is France, then?”

“The big green one!” He pointed at the map and dissolved into giggles. “The America one!”

“Very silly, Alex, very silly. Now how about I read that story about France?”

Everyone cheered, some of them still laughing.

It took a little bit of explaining and answering questions for the class to understand that Charles was reading them the story in English and French, and after every page he had to stop and answer more questions, but they seemed very interested.

As Charles lined them up for lunch and led them to the cafeteria, he could even hear their little voices stuttering around _dejeuner_ and _merci beaucoup_. He couldn’t wait to call that Erik fellow and tell him that “Lunchtime in France” was a hit.

-

Charles paced around his apartment a couple times before finally dialing the number in his phone. He took a few more circles around his kitchen before hitting call. He wiped his sweaty hands on his pajama pants as it rang.

Three rings.

“Erik Lehnsherr.”

“Hi, good evening, I don’t know if you remember me.” _I hope to the Virgin of Guadalupe that you remember me._ “We met at Barnes and Noble on Saturday.”

“Charles! The teacher! Yes, I remember.” Charles bit his lip to hide the smile that broke out on his face. (He didn’t know why he felt he needed to hide his excitement, seeing as he was alone in his apartment, but something about Erik made him feel nervous.)

“Did you read the books to your class? Today was the first day, right?”

“Yes. I read Lunchtime in France right before the lunch hour. Figured it’d be a good segue.”

“Very clever.”

Charles blushed and cleared his throat.

“Anyway, so, I read them the book, after I gave an impromptu geography lesson about the existence of France as a country,”

“Right, right, of course.” Erik sounded as engaged as his students were earlier.

“And I think it went very well. I had some difficulty with the idea of bilingualism, because only a few of the students come from bilingual backgrounds--one of them is already proficient in English and Spanish, if you would believe it--but they were all very excited to learn new words. For the rest of the day every time someone said ‘thank you’ they would follow it with ‘merci’. It’s incredible how easy they picked it up once they understood what was happening, honestly, Erik, I think you really made a breakthrough here. I mean-”

“Charles.”

“Sorry, I’m rambling again.”

“No, no, I don’t mind the rambling. I want to thank you. This is great news.”

Charles leaned over the island in his kitchen, resting his elbows on the cool countertop.

“It really is, isn’t it.”

“This is amazing. You’re amazing.”

Okay, now Charles was _really_ blushing.

“I’m just the messenger. You’re the one who came up with this whole thing.”

“We need to meet again, I’ve been brainstorming some follow-up activities”

“Yes.” Charles blurted almost a second later. He breathed and tried to feign nonchalance. “I mean, yes, that sounds like a good idea. To supplement the books.”

“I’ll text you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright. I should get to bed, my friend.”

“Of course. Good luck with your class, mon ami.”

Charles laughed lightly, his eyelids getting heavier.

“Bonne nuit.”


	2. the one where they meet (again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the first chapter that contains Charles and Raven texting each other, so just to prevent any confusion:  
> charles texts in italics only  
> >raven texts in italics with a bracket

The Starbucks near Charles’ apartment was always crowded on weekends, but the weather had spiked back into the high 90s during the last few days and now everyone was crowded inside, huddled practically five to a table and resorting to lap sitting.

He wondered if he would have to sit in Erik’s lap.

He mentally punched himself.

“Tall iced soy latte for Charles?” The barista called out. Charles thanked her and went back to standing awkwardly next to the newsstand, reading and rereading the headlines.

After a group of high school kids passed through the line and unhappily decided on sitting at an outside table, the room settled back into its ambiance of hushed conversations and milk steaming.

“Doppio for Erik?”

Charles looked up. He considered walking the few feet to meet up with him, but didn’t want to come off as over-eager. He waited for Erik to turn around.

“Erik, good morning.”

Erik waved before walking up next to Charles.

“I guess I underestimated the popularity of Starbucks on a hot day.”

“It’s the neighborhood. Lots of students like to come here to study. Or...not study, it looks like.”

“Do you reckon we could survive the outdoor seating?”

“I don’t know if I should assume that you’ve just moved down here or your body has somehow adapted to hellish temperatures.”

Erik snorted as he led the way outside.

They managed to at least snag a table with an umbrella, even though the umbrella did next to nothing by way of shade. Charles winced when he sat down, trying not to let his skin come into contact with the scorching metal. Meanwhile, Erik seemed to relax in the sunshine. He looked around the parking lot before trailing his gaze back to Charles, who took that as a cue to attempt conversation.

“So, how long have you lived in Austin, then?”

“Two years, almost. Originally I came down here to work at the Statesman.”

“A journalist.” Charles drank some of his latte, feeling weirdly bubbly.

“Yeah. But I quit after two months. That place was a shit show.”

“How does one go from bitter ex-journalist to multilingual children’s book author?”

“Desperation, mostly.” Erik leaned back in his chair, light yellow t shirt lifting just a little. Charles pretended not to notice.

“I already had the multilingual part going for me. One of my business partners, who’s already published a few books, found me on linkedin.”

“And so you found your true calling.”

He laughed, his neck somehow impossibly longer and tanner than before.

“It’s not so bad, being a bitter multilingual children’s book author.”

They talked for another hour just about their own lives. Erik complained about his years in journalism and Charles talked about Oxford and the horrors of his assistant teaching job last year. Eventually they got to the topic of Charles’ class and remembered that there was a reason for this meeting.

After that they debated over whether or not worksheets actually did anything, and to what extent Charles should consider continuing any education.

“What about music?”

Charles cocked his head to the side.

“Like a sing along thing, or…”

“Or just having it in the background during play time.”

Something about hearing Erik say _play time_ in complete seriousness with his accent and his jawline made Charles think of a very different kind of play time. He tried to rein his thoughts back in. Being single and always surrounded by women and children, Charles sometimes didn’t realize how starved of male companionship he must have become. He started thinking about going down to 6th Street and picking someone up just to hold him over for a while.

“Charles? Are you still there?”

Charles jumped a little.

“Right, sorry, I’m listening. Must be the heat.”

Erik nodded, “I should probably head home, anyway. I have another manuscript due tomorrow.” He stood up and Charles followed, throwing away his empty cup while they rounded the corner.

“Speaking of which, before you go, I have a question. If I may.”

“Sure.”

“Why were you buying copies of your books?”

Erik paused, looking back at him. He had that same expression from earlier, the one where Charles couldn’t decide if he was pissed off or contemplating.

“To send to my mother.”

Contemplating it is, then.

“Ah. That’s very sweet of you.”

“She’s in Germany, so I had to promise her she would get copies the second they made it to the shelves.”

 

-

 

_and get this_

 

(Charles had been texting Raven about Erik since the day after they met. Talking about him had become some sort of stress outlet.)

 

_he loves his mother._

_> oh wow, really setting the bar nice and low there_

_shut up._

_i’m lonely._

_and it’s your duty as the younger sibling to listen to my whining._

_> just ask him on a date. he’s clearly equally as dorky about bringing justice to education as you are._

_i don’t even have time for a relationship right now. i’m married to my class_

_> *police sirens*_

_very funny. he’s probably straight anyway_

_> how many straight well-dressed german men move to austin texas to write children’s books?_

_i don’t know what you’re insinuating but it’s probably a stereotype_

_> ask him on a date, charles_

-

 

Moira cornered Charles in the teacher’s lounge during lunch two weeks later.

“Where are they?” She demanded, aggression mostly fake, from the looks of it.

“I...I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The books! The food books with the foreign languages!”

“Oh.” Charles escaped from the corner and went to get his lunch from the refrigerator. Moira followed behind him, talking excitedly.

“I have six different parents asking me about these books, not to mention the rest of the faculty has noticed that your class has been teaching their classes how to say please and thank you in five different languages. Now my students are asking for them.”

“I can let you borrow my copies if you want. I got them from the Barnes and Noble.”

“So this isn’t some sort of personal experiment?”

“Well, yes and no. I’m in contact with the author.” Moira’s eyes widened.

“Charles!”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell us? These books are more effective than all of the other foreign language programs we’ve tried in the past, and you _know_ the _author_?”

“I didn’t think-”

“You need to talk to the principal. We need to get an author visit!” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him quickly from behind before running out of the room, probably to go and steal the books from Charles’ class.

He was left standing next to a beeping microwave, confused and excited but mostly confused.

 

After school got out he picked up the books from Moira and made his way to see the principal, a miss Emma Frost. From the few exchanges he’d had with her, he could tell that she took the school very seriously, right down to the number of gold star stickers paid for by the district. Her office was always pristine, the only sign of working with children being what she called the “happy thoughts” shelf, which was a collection of small toys that could be held by the distressed students she had to meet with sometimes. So far, Charles had a clean record of not needing to send any students to the office, but sometimes he could feel Alex toeing the edge.

He knocked on the door, adjusting his shirt collar nervously.

“Come in.” She said, her voice not exhibiting the least bit of fatigue. It was probably a skill she’d developed over the years. (Either that or her caffeine intake was as high as Moira’s.)

He stepped inside and sat down at the chair in front of her desk , which was, again, child sized. Emma’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

“What do you need, sugar? How’s your first month going?”

“Oh good, good, so far no catastrophes. I came to see you about these.”

He placed the books on her desk. She eyed them for a minute before picking up Breakfast Time in Italy and flipping through it.

“So these are the books everyone’s been talking about.”

“Yes, the rumors are true, I’m afraid. I’ve been smuggling culture into the children’s brains.”

She chuckled.

“I’m glad you got these, though. I think I might get sets for all of our classes through first grade.”

“I have one more thing, if you’re not too busy.”

“Fire away.” Emma continued to look through the books, occasionally nodding.

“See I...I met the author, he was the one who convinced me to buy them for my class in the first place, and we’ve been in contact since the year started. Sort of a progress report thing, to see how the books are faring with the children. Moira wants me to see if he can come for an author visit.”

“Absolutely. That’s a wonderful idea.”

Charles smiled. He thought about how Erik would react, now that he had a reason to call again.

“Just send me his information and I’ll do a background check before we set it up.”

“Okay. Perfect. I’ll let him know.” He stood up and stretched.

“Could I keep these?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, honey. Now go get some sleep. We’ll be in touch.”

She smiled at Charles and he took his leave, stopping to pick up some things from his room for the lesson tomorrow. The school was still busy with teachers running around, talking and hanging up artwork in the hallways. Moira nodded at him while she worked on the first autumn-themed bulletin board of the season.

This time he called Erik the second he got home, leaving articles of clothing in a trail from the door to his dresser. Erik picked up just as he was hopping into a pair of pajama pants.

“Charles, I’ve been waiting for another update.”

“You’re going to like this one, my friend.”

“You have my full attention.”

Charles felt a little shiver hearing Erik say those words. It really had been a long time since his last relationship and periodical exchanges with one of the most attractive people he’d ever met wasn’t helping.

“Everyone at Juniper is talking about your books. Parents are asking where to find them. The principal wants to buy copies for the classrooms.”

“You’re messing with me.”

“That’s not even the best part. The principal--Emma Frost, lovely woman--found out that I know you and she wants you to come in for an author visit. Do you think you’d be up for that?”

Erik sighed, and Charles recognized the sound of all of the tension leaving a person’s system.

“Charles, you are the light of my life.”

Charles swallowed.

“Come on now.”

“I mean it, I’m finally striking oil here.”

“I’m going to pass on your information to Emma, if that’s alright.”

“Please do.”

He stayed silent while he booted up his laptop and composed an email. Eventually he started to notice Erik breathing on the other end and realized that this must be incredibly awkward.

“Sorry, are you still there?”

“I’m here. How have you been? With the class, I mean.”

“Oh, fine. Just fine. I was worried for a little while about one of my students, Hank, he seemed to have trouble adjusting to social situations. He spent the first week sitting out, reading, drawing, sometimes just looking out the window, reminded me of myself when I was younger, actually.”

Charles sent the email and walked to the couch, flopping down onto the cushions.

“Anyway, I wasn’t sure what to do, I asked Moira about it, she told me he’d fit in eventually. At first I didn’t believe her, but a week later I was teaching the first science lesson, the water cycle, and he dominated the conversation. Now he has Alex and Armando and sometimes even Kitty coming to him with more science questions. He’s quite the brainiac, as it turns out.”

“Also like you, I presume.”

“I almost went into science, if you’d believe it. Anyway, the class dynamic has been surprisingly harmonious. I’m left waiting for the moment it’ll all go to hell.”

“Just from hearing the way you talk about your students, I doubt it will.”

“Sorry, I’m talking too much, aren’t I.”

“It’s okay. I’m intrigued.”

“Do you…” Charles took a deep breath, imagining Raven glaring at him to _suck it up and just do it already_. “Do you maybe want to meet again? Before your visit. Just so I can help you out with anything beforehand, children in large groups can be rather intimidating.”

“Yeah, alright. That sounds like a good idea.”

“I’d love to hear about how the manuscripts are going, my friend, but I’m afraid I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open.”

“Go to sleep, Charles. There’s always time to talk about my struggle with manuscripts.”

Charles couldn’t stop thinking about Erik as he rummaged around in the refrigerator, eating half of its contents before collapsing into bed. He wondered if Erik was thinking about him, too.  

-

 

Azazel rolled up to Erik’s desk in his chair, even though everyone’s desks were in the same room and it would have been equally as effective for him to just raise his voice a little. So far, that was the main downside of leaving the Statesman and joining a startup, which, for the first couple weeks, wasn’t even in an office; it was a collection of documents on google drive.

Not soon after Erik joined the team, though, they managed to bring together enough money to buy a two-room office space next to a tortilla factory on the east edge of downtown. They had to repaint the walls, pay for several different plumbing repairs, and install burglar bars, but in the end it was worth it to have a place to work together in person.

Although sometimes Erik preferred writing at home, because sometimes his coworkers would get hell-bent on invading his personal life. For example, right now.

“Erik. Come on, tell me who they are.”

Erik shut his laptop to glare at Azazel.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He’s talking about the fact that you’ve been only a fraction as pissy as you usually are, which means you either took up crotchet as an outlet or you’re getting regular orgasms.” Angel said from behind the tower of books on her desk. (She usually spent her workdays looking through the more popular language curriculums and taking notes, but secretly she was always listening to everyone’s conversations.)

“Am I not allowed to enjoy my life as is?”

“Oh, you are.” Azazel scooted closer and leaned on Erik’s desk, his elbows resting on one of the early copies of Dessert Time in China. “You just don’t. So, tell us.”

“Yeah, who’s the lucky guy?”

“Guy? Erik is straight.”

Angel pushed her books to the side so she could be visible when she laughed at Azazel.

“No he’s not.”

“You two are aware that I am actually in the room right now. Actually.”

“Tell him, Erik. I see how you look at the pedicab driver who parks across the street.”

“Everyone stares at that man’s calves, that’s nothing to go by.”

Erik opened his laptop and aggressively started typing again, trying to look focused enough that they left him alone. Like always, it did nothing to sway their attention. If anything it made it worse.

“He’s blushing! I knew it!”

“How do you say ‘fuck off’ in Italian?”

“Vaffanculo’.” Angel supplied.

“Now answer the question.”

Erik sighed, letting his fingers hover over the keys before giving up.

“Yes. I’m gay. And no, that’s not why I’ve been less of an ass.”

“I told you, Azazel.”

“If you really care, I got an author visit for Juniper Elementary School.”

Both of his coworkers perked up at that, looking at Erik as if he’d just announced the return of Jesus Christ. He let himself feel the same triumph he did the night before when Emma Frost called him about his schedule (with an anecdote about passing a background check, which made him worry if there was anything he ought to delete from his facebook page).

“No shit. Upper-middle-class suburbia? That’s great, man.”

“That’s a whole school of potential customers!” Angel cheered, “We need to start working on a middle years curriculum. Right now.” She returned to the book she was on, German I from the looks of it, and Azazel left Erik’s desk to join her.

“By the way,” He said as he rolled off, “if you really are single, I have a cousin-”

“Vaffanculo’.”

Erik went back to work, trying not to look as excited as he felt and especially trying not to stand on his desk and yell _THERE’S A KINDERGARTEN TEACHER NAMED CHARLES XAVIER AND I THINK HE’S CUTE AS FUCK_ at the top of his lungs.

 

 


	3. the one where they kiss

The unofficially named _pre-author-visit-cram-session-don’t-panic_ meeting was scheduled for Sunday afternoon, and the officially named _Author Visit-Erik Lehnsherr-Parents Welcome_ would happen Wednesday afternoon during the second half of the school day. Erik planned for them to meet at Starbucks again, until he got a text from Charles that his car was in the shop for the week.

According to the last-minute plan change, Erik rode his motorcycle to Charles’ apartment, slightly worried because he’d been relying on only meeting in public areas, where it was much less likely for him to suddenly jump Charles and kiss his stupid accent right out of his mouth.

His apartment was pretty close to the school itself, as it turned out, close enough that Erik passed it on his way there. He arrived ten minutes early and took another lap around the block.

Charles answered the door after Erik knocked twice. He was wearing blue jeans and a wrinkled blue Columbia t shirt and for a second seemed genuinely surprised that Erik showed up. Finally he smiled and Erik decided that today was definitely a bad idea.

“You’re early.” Charles opened the door wider to let him in.

“I’m too used to the traffic downtown, I think.”

“Awful, isn’t it? If there were ever a reason to enjoy living in suburbia it’s rush hour on I-35.”

Erik breathed out a laugh and took a look around. The apartment wasn’t as clean as he’d expected, there were empty mugs stacked on top of books and crayon boxes, and some sort of industrial-scale craft project was happening in the living area, but somehow it seemed very fitting.

“Tea? Coffee? Sorry you had to come all the way out here, but you should have seen my car.”

“Uh, coffee.” Erik followed Charles into the kitchen and sat down on a barstool. The island had a curious combination of classic literature and picture books on it, both of which were heavily bookmarked.

“What happened to your car?”

“I got in a wreck.”

“Really?”

Charles laughed as Erik raised his eyebrows in shock.

“With a deer.”

“Oh. It happens.”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me!” He turned on the coffee machine and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms, “Is it really that likely for someone to hit a deer in this city?”

Erik laughed, enjoying the comfort that their relationship acquired now that they were to the point of apartment visiting.

“If you’re driving at night. Haven’t you seen the deer crossing signs?”

Charles made a face that seemed like a cross between realization and embarrassment, his gaze trailing up to the ceiling. He shrugged.

“Well, regardless, my front bumper and left headlight were beyond redemption.”

“Did the deer live?”

“Of course it lived. Bastard ran off before I even got out of the car. It probably has some sort of agenda to pursue of taking out all residents.”

“You should buy a pair of those little holiday antlers to attach to your car. See if the deer activists accept you as one of their own.”

“The deer have already formed an activist coalition?”

“It’s Austin. Everyone here is part of some sort of activist coalition.”

“Well I’m glad you’re here helping me advocate for better public education than hitting cars or  standing outside of abortion clinics and harassing the poor women who enter.”

Erik fake shivered before smiling at Charles, who responded by smiling back and handing him a mug. The smell of coffee had already filled the kitchen.

“There’s cream in the refrigerator.”

“Wonderful.”

He stood up and walked over to the fridge, which was covered in pictures and children’s drawings. Charles must have noticed him looking at them.

“My students drew those for me. We had a lesson on the letter X, and they made the connection between that and Mr. Xavier. Although most of them just call me Mr. X.”

“Ah.” Erik noticed that most of them were covered in the letter X. Some of them included portraits though, of someone he could only assume was intended to be Charles. Above the drawings, on the freezer, there was a collection of photographs. A few were clearly from college, but there were others that contained a more recent version of Charles smiling with different women. Erik’s inner Disappointment With Life meter took a sudden jump.

“The blonde girl is my sister, Raven. She’s doing some acting right now in San Francisco. Anything Goes, I believe. Or maybe it’s On The Town. I always mix those two up and she gets mad at me.”

Erik nodded, opening the fridge and scanning for milk. He found vanilla almond milk and, once again, was not surprised.

“The other woman is Moira. She teaches the class next door to mine.” Charles was next to him now, pointing to a picture of him with a very pretty brunette. Both of them looked happy and Erik wasn’t sure what to do anymore. He settled for pouring milk. Charles reached out his own mug and Erik poured milk in it too, without thinking.

“Thank you. Anyway, that picture is from a teacher’s conference in San Antonio. I learned a lot about how schools tend to plan their budgets.”

“I imagine it’s a lot of work.”

“Oh yeah.”

Erik suddenly felt very crowded between Charles and his fridge full of organic food and his pictures of beautiful women.

“Should we get started with my briefing, then?”

Charles laughed, leading them over to the couch. He gave Erik a quick crash course in speaking to groups of children, how much to read aloud, and what sort of information he should use as an introduction so they knew what was going on. It was almost terrifying how _smart_ he was, because it was his first year as a teacher, yet somehow he seemed to know everything from the technical processes of running a school to the psychological aspects of introducing yourself to children. Erik just watched as he spoke, rapt with everything he was saying. It was like every school functioned as its own little ecosystem.

“Do you think you could do that?”

“Talk about Germany?”

“They had more trouble with the German book. It’d help if you talked about how you’re from Germany and such.”

“Of course. I was thinking of bringing over the test copy of the book I’m currently working on. It talks about good manners in German, French, and Spanish. I can just read the German section, if you’d like.”

“That sounds perfect, actually.”

“Perfect.”

They reached a lull in the conversation, and Erik looked down at the construction-paper dilemma that had been on the coffee table since he walked in.

“Lesson plan?”

“I haven’t completely figured it out yet. The other kindergarten teachers planned for all of our classes to watch Aladdin together, since it’s supposed to be rainy on Tuesday, and I figured I could run with the magic carpet thing. Somehow I didn’t consider the potential difficulty of trying to manipulate paper at a kindergarten level.”

Erik thought for a minute, analyzing the multiple attempts at multicolor carpets. He had an idea.

“May I?” He gestured at the supplies on the table.

“Please. I’m completely stuck.”

Erik picked up a sheet of purple paper and folded it in half twice, cutting two columns of slots. He could feel Charles watching as he picked up a sheet of yellow paper and started cutting strips from it.

“Of course.” Charles whispered. Erik smiled and kept working. He wove the yellow strips into the purple. It was simple, but that seemed to be one of the main objectives.

“Erik-”

“Hold on.”

Erik used the leftover yellow to cut two pieces of fringe and held them to the edges of the paper carpet prototype, tilting his head before making some final trims.

He held it up and Charles applauded.

“You’re a lifesaver. I can’t believe I didn’t think of _weaving_. I might even be able to get them to do more than four columns.”

Charles picked up more paper and started making another one. Erik played with the rejects, cutting them up and thinking about the time he used to waste making paper crafts with newspapers back when he was at the Statesman.

“I might need to bring you back around when it’s paper snowflake season.”

“Hey. Look. I made a mask.”

Erik had cut eye holes out of one of the more complicated attempts. Charles looked up and snickered while he held it up to his face.

“Oh, that is very becoming.”

“Do I look like the red bandit?”

Charles put his magic carpet to the side and made a hat for himself out of light blue paper. Once the crafts started, they didn’t stop until both of them were equipped with masks and hats and Charles’ attempts to teach Erik how to fold paper cranes.

Erik couldn’t help but feel light and happy, which was out of character, but not out of place when he was with Charles. Somehow Charles coerced him into taking a selfie, after which they realized that it was already late afternoon.

“You could stay for dinner if you like.”

“I couldn’t impose. And I don’t want to keep you from preparing for the week.” In reality, he just needed to go back to his apartment and pout for a little while, instead of staying at Charles’ place even longer and pining over dinner, which would probably be from Trader Joe’s or something.

“It’s really no trouble, but, if you insist.”

Charles walked him to the door after they removed the paper from their bodies. If this was a date, and if there wasn’t overwhelming evidence of Charles being heterosexual, Erik would have searched desperately for a goodbye-kiss cue. It didn’t come, anyway, so he settled for thanking him for the help and trying not to look like he was running away while he ran away.

Charles waved from the doorway and didn’t go inside until Erik started driving.

 

-

 

_[Charles Xavier has sent a photo]_

 

_ > cuuuuuuuuute _

_ > charles xavier if you aren’t dating this man by the time i come visit for christmas _

 

_i’m trying_

 

_ > are you?_

 

_no. but i’m thinking about trying_

 

_ > well hurry up. everyone is waiting for a completion to your little love story _

 

_have you been telling your actor friends about this?_

 

_ > i give updates every day at half-hour _

_ > now go _

_ > get laid_

 

_you’re creepy._

 

_ > i get shit done _

 

-

 

Erik ended up sitting in Emma Frost’s office for almost half an hour. He shook his left leg nervously while he waited, sitting in a chair that was too small and repeating portions of his book that he’d be reading again and again in his head. _Bitte, danke, bitte, danke, bitte, danke, bitte, danke, bitte, danke, b-_

“Erik Lehnsherr?”

He turned his head to look at the door and reminded himself to smile.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. We had a jello situation during third grade recess.” She quickly slid behind her desk and straightened things up. Erik just watched, silently. He’d always had an image in his mind of how school principals looked or acted. Emma Frost seemed to break the algorithm. She was calm, elegant, and above all, she looked mentally stable, wearing a ruffled white blouse and a crisp black pencil skirt. He tried to imagine her patronizing the students, like the principal at his school in Germany, but it didn’t seem to fit. Her hair was too neat and her face too earnest. If he’d had to go to _her_ office after getting into another playground fight he probably would have thought she was an angel.

“Jello situation?”

“We try to refrain from using terms like ‘food fight’.” She smiled, clasping her hands together on her desk. Normally it would feel uncomfortable to be given someone’s full attention like this, but her gaze felt more welcoming than anything. Almost as if her entire being emanated a feeling of _I’m so glad you’re here_.

“So,” Emma said, “we have a little bit until your scheduled visit. I’d love to hear about what you do.”

“I used to work in journalism. When I was between jobs, one of my current colleagues found an article I’d written with the Statesman about language education and offered me a position. He didn’t really have a company at that point, more of a...group of likeminded people. Eventually we managed to scrape something together.”

She nodded, inviting him to continue.

“We started out with a google document titled ‘operation integration’ and somehow none of us could think of a better name.”

“How’d you go from journalism to children’s literature?”

“Somehow introductory language turned out to be one of my skills.” Erik laughed awkwardly, because if Emma’s first impression of him wasn’t _children’s book author_ she would be just as surprised as Azazel was when he showed up to the office with after an all-nighter with five separate versions of Suppertime in Germany.

“Most of what we do right now is research, though. Public school curriculum is monopolized already, so it’s going to take a long time for us to make something that will even compete with what’s already out there.”

“What’s your approach?”

“Currently, language classes start out reading and writing based and move up to conversational. One of the first things we noticed is that children learn their first languages in the opposite order, so we’re trying to build on a curriculum that emphasizes speaking over everything else. The children’s books are more for the purpose of building a familiarity and a small vocabulary. In the same way that children whose parents take them to museums are more comfortable with science or history when they start school.”

“Pretty ambitious for a startup.”

“That’s why I’m so thankful for your support. Plus, the publicity will help to keep the electricity on at the office.”

Emma looked amused. She leaned forward a little bit, studying Erik’s face.

“I want this to succeed, Erik, I really do. We’ve had your books here for almost three weeks and the students are already asking for more. Especially after Charles talked about how ‘cool’ it is to know more than one language.”

Erik laughed at that, imagining Charles trying to explain big concepts like communication and language to five year olds, his eyes darting around the room like they did when he was looking for something to say.

“The state is working on developing a bigger emphasis on STEM, but, to be honest, I think we need a better language program just as badly. Not every kid wants to be an engineer, and children pick up languages so quickly...”

There was a knock on the door before an older woman opened it and stood in the doorway.

“Is it time already?” Emma asked, looking back at Erik with excitement. They both stood up. “This is going to be great. The kids are going to love you.”

“I hope so.”

She led him to the library, and he was in awe of how big the school was. All these rooms, all of the classes full of students, and the woman walking next to him managed to keep it all in order everyday. He probably would have resorted to threats and glares if he had to do all that.

“How did you meet Charles?” They were going up a staircase now, and Erik realized that the faculty at this school had to deal with everything being slightly smaller, to account for the children, on a _daily basis_. He almost tripped over a step before answering.

“He saw me carrying my books at a Barnes and Noble--I bought them to send to my mother, it’s not an ego thing--and asked if they were any good. I don’t remember if I even told him if they were good or not, he just made the decision from seeing the covers and meeting the author, I guess.”

“That sounds very much like him.”

Erik laughed a little bit, feeling awkward and torn between his fear of schoolchildren and his fear of schoolteacher Charles Xavier.

The library was impressive, really. Other than a set of wordy posters trying to explain the dewey decimal system, it was all very kid-friendly, containing dozens of places to sit and read. On one end there was an open space where a crowd of students had collected, some of them joined by parents. In the middle of it all were five adults standing and giving directions to sit down criss-cross-applesauce. Erik snickered at the jargon, until he noticed that in the middle of the adults was Charles.

“Alright, little ones, our special guest is going to be here very soon, but if you all sit down, we can play a little game while we wait.”

All of the children looked enraptured with Charles, holding on to every word. They sat down and looked up at him expectantly. Emma touched Erik’s shoulder.

“I’ll tell you when we’re ready for you.”

He nodded, not looking away from Charles and the class. He seemed to be leading some sort of derivative of Simon Says; he would hold his hands up, touch his nose, his forehead, among other gestures that could be done sitting down, and the children would do the same, looking thoroughly entertained by all of it.

“Now I want all of you to giggle, come on, let it out.” Some of them burst into laughter, followed by the others, until the room echoed with chatters and squeals.

“And when I say stop,” He rose his voice a little, but it was no less calm, “I want you to save all of your giggles until we get back to the room. Ready?”

The noise rose.

“Just a little longer…” Charles sang, and Erik was taken aback by his sudden attraction to men speaking to children. Maybe it was just a Charles thing.

“Aaaaaaand stop!” The group started to quiet down, some of them still laughing. Charles tsked, making a zip-your-lips gesture until the room was silent.

“Very good. I’m afraid our new friend might be a little nervous, so if you could all stay very quiet and respectful, he might read you some stories.”

The group nodded. Several of the children were sitting with their parents, who looked simultaneously exhausted and amazed at his ability to charm the pants off of four dozen kindergarteners.

Erik double checked everything. He made sure he was wearing matching shoes, that he’d brought the right books, before shaking his limbs out a little. Emma emerged from the group while he was in the middle of some breathing exercises.

“It’s show time.”

He nodded, but suddenly couldn’t move his legs.

“You’ll be fine, Erik. You could stand in front of them and read your _shopping lists_ and they’d still be excited.”

He nodded again, and Emma escorted him with a hand on his arm. When they got there, the other teachers had already sat down, he recognized Moira from Charles’ fridge, but Charles was still standing. He smiled when he caught sight of Erik.

“Everyone say hi to mister Erik Lehnsherr. He wrote those fun language books that we like to read.”

Erik waved awkwardly at the chorus of _hi mister Erik_ , a few of them struggling with _Lehnsherr,_ and Charles whispered at him through his teeth.

_“Smile.”_

Erik smiled.

“Hi everyone, I’m so happy to be here today.”

“Does everyone hear mister Erik’s accent? Mister Erik is from Germany.” Charles gave Erik an encouraging smile and sat down in the back next to Moira. One of the students yelled out _Guten Tag!_ and it was horribly mispronounced but also incredibly adorable. He laughed.

“That’s right. Guten tag is how we say hello in Germany.”

He watched their nodding heads, feeling an odd combination of watched and admired, remembering what Charles had told him about speaking slowly and explaining everything a little bit at a time.

“‘Guten’ means good, and ‘tag’ means day. So when we say ‘guten tag’ we’re saying good day.”

More of them started to repeat Erik’s _guten tag_ , attempting to fix their pronunciation. He glimpsed at Charles for a moment, who seemed to be having a cheerful, but hushed, conversation with Moira. He hoped they were talking about anything in the world other than how beautiful of a couple they make.

That was how the rest of the visit went, with Erik talking about Germany and writing, until finally reading them the German portion of his soon-to-be-published good manners book. Every once in a while, though, he would sweep his gaze around the crowd and allow himself to look at Charles, if only for a minute. He told himself that he was just checking to make sure Charles wasn’t grimacing at his public speaking skills or holding hands with Moira but sure enough, every time Erik looked at him Charles was watching him with the same admiration as the rest of the audience.

It was over before he knew it, and suddenly the teachers had joined him in front of the group and instructed everyone to give Erik applause and say thank you, to which Charles quickly added, _and how did mister Erik teach us to say thank you in German?_ and suddenly he was surrounded by a combination of thank you’s _and_ danke’s.

Emma pulled him aside while the kindergarteners split up into their classes and exited the library. His eyes lingered on Charles for a moment, leading the kids and smiling in every direction, before he brought himself back to Earth.

“I told you they would love you.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. Erik knew he _should_ have felt like he was being talked down to, but for some reason her actions carried an unexpected level of sincerity. He smiled, thinking back to how nervous he was, realizing that maybe he had done a good job after all.

“School gets out pretty soon, but if you want to stick around I’m sure you and Charles can...catch up.”

Erik detected something in her voice that definitely didn’t sound like she was talking to a child anymore.

“You’re not...I’m not-”

“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Am I really that easy to read?”

“I’m just very good at reading people. It’s in the job description. Also you were faking every smile that wasn’t directed at him.”

Erik groaned and rubbed his hands over his eyes.

They took the scenic route to the kindergarten hallway, waiting for the dismissal bell and then for the students to file out of their rooms. Emma stopped to explain the different clusters of artwork in the main hallways. Erik recognized some of the kindergarten students that walked past them. One of the girls and her mother stopped him, and the mother thanked him for the Chinese book he’d written, saying that she’d been looking for something in Chinese that Clarice wouldn’t think was boring.

“See. Look at the difference you’re already making.” Emma whispered as they waved goodbye.

“I just hope it’s enough.”

The two of them continued walking down the hallway.

“It’s definitely a start.”

 

-

 

Moira was sitting on one of the little tables in Charles’ room. They had both returned from leading their class outside to the pick-up area and handing responsibility to the hall monitors. Charles found himself pacing back and forth and sweating enough that he had to roll up his sleeves.

“Wait, hold on…”

“Don’t say anything. Not a word.”

“You have a thing for _mister Erik_ don’t you?”

He stopped walking and crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to sigh audibly before looking back at Moira. She was grinning at him, like a teenage girl at a Beatles concert, and he slumped.

“I give up.”

“Don’t give up!”

“I give up.”

“Have you even tried to ask him on a date?”

“Well, no-”

“ _Charles._ ”

Charles sighed and started pacing again. The author visit had gone well, spectacularly, in fact. Erik was a hit, the children holding on to his every word. Charles could hardly find the energy to round all of them up after it was over. Erik probably saw him talking in his kindergarten teacher voice and dismissed him as a Grade A Dork.

“Charles, of all people to be insecure. For the last month and a half you’ve been on top of it and suddenly this writer comes in and speaks German and you’re all hot and bothered and convinced that nobody looks twice at you. Quit undermining yourself! You’re a hot piece of ass.”

There was a knock on Charles’ open door and they both turned around. It didn’t happen often, but whenever someone caught them saying profanities like _ass_ it was usually followed by a greuling lecture. Instead of a lecture, though, there was Emma Frost, frowning only a little bit, with Erik standing behind her looking awkward.

“Afternoon.” He croaked. Erik laughed.

Charles wanted to die.

“How much of that did you hear?” Moira’s voice was about half as loud as it was before.

“Just the part about Charles being a piece of ass.” Emma crossed her arms, “Both of you are aware of the rules about language, especially so close to school hours.”

“Yes. I’m sorry.” Charles said, rubbing his tired eyes.

“It was all me. I was trying to give Charles a pep talk.”

“I understand, but maybe consider calling him ‘a very useful asset to our faculty’ or ‘fun to be around’ instead?” Moira laughed and stood up to join Emma in the hall, and the two of them started a conversation of whispers and glances in Charles’ direction. Erik stepped in while they walked away. Charles felt his face heat up.

“Sorry about that, uh, great job today.”

“Danke.” Erik smiled, a real smile, unlike the ones he seemed to put on in front of other people. “And don’t worry about it. I’ve been there.”

“You’ve been a hot piece of ass?” Charles had to whisper just in case Emma’s auditory radius was as intense as it seemed. Erik laughed.

“I used to date someone who was into oversharing.”

He nodded in understanding before he actually understood what Erik had just said. Charles couldn’t stop himself from physically drawing back a little bit in surprise.

“Wait, wait, no, I’m not, we’re not, Moira and I, we’re not dating.”

“Oh.” Erik answered, his face suddenly unreadable.

“Yeah, um, we’re close by necessity, really. Most of the faculty consider us to be the ‘ungrateful liberals’ in the community. Not that she isn’t lovely, she is, I love Moira, but not like-”

“Charles, you’re doing that thing again.”

“That is to say, we’re not, because I’m not,”

“Charles-”

“I’m actually kind of homosexual.” He stammered. Erik raised an eyebrow.

“ _Kind of_ homosexual?”

“Um, well, bisexual. But, I guess, yeah.”

This time Erik’s smile was more lopsided. He studied Charles’ face for a moment, and then his gaze started to travel around the room. Charles was confused. He wanted to demand that Erik _say_ something instead of doing his stupid contemplative silence routine.

“Your room is nice.”

Erik was standing with his hands jammed in his pockets (not a good sign), as he trailed his eyes around the classroom, not looking at Charles (also not good). Charles huffed in frustration, and then scrambled for something to say to cover up the fact that he’d just huffed.

“Oh, yes, I went for pastels. Ideally it would help to calm the children down, but I’m really not sure. Alex and Armando seem to have set up a schedule for daily wrestling matches regardless.”

Charles tried to laugh because he was very likely on the verge of having a panic attack if Erik didn’t either leave or kiss him in five and a half seconds.

“Charles?”

“Yes?” Now was when Erik told him that he was a total dork with a creepy laugh and that their friendship was going to have to remain in the form of sporadic phone calls.

“Do you maybe want to get dinner? If you aren’t busy.”

“I…what?”

“Damn it I’m asking you on a date.”

“Oh.” Charles crossed his arms again and looked at the ceiling, before his brain suddenly clicked. “Oh! Yes, that sounds nice.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. Yes.”

He wondered if his brain was lagging from nerves or fatigue or a combination of both. Erik continued to stand in the middle of the room as Charles went on autopilot, packing up and hanging his cardigan over one arm. Tonight he only had one box to take home. It was half full of coloring sheets and lesson plans for the next day; the other half he would use to transport everything else that was still at home.

“How were the magic carpets?” Erik took the box out of Charles’ hands without asking, and as the stress of Erik Lehnsherr’s existence started to leave his body he realized how tired he was. Hopefully he didn’t look as bad as he felt.

“Do you want to see them? They’re on the bulletin board in the hallway.”

“Is there any more cleaning you need to do in here?”

“No, the janitors will come in here to sweep and vacuum in a little bit. Usually I stay late enough that they clean while I sit at my desk.”

He took one last glance around the room to make sure he didn’t forget anything before stepping into the hallway. They were alone, save for a few faculty members talking or packing up. His class bulletin board was set up across from the door, and Charles took a moment to reflect on the hours he’d spent on it two days earlier. The header was _Where Would You Go on a Magic Carpet Ride?_ and underneath were all of the students’ carpets, with a sticker on them where they’d written their name and magic carpet ride destination.

Erik laughed at Alex’s, where his destination was Taco Bell.

“Don’t worry, we’re not going to Taco Bell.”

“As long as there’s food and a place to sit down, I honestly could not care less where we go.”

Charles kept rubbing at his eyes and Erik steered him down the hallway with a hand on his lower back.

 

-

 

They ended up getting street tacos from a truck near Charles’ apartment. It was the beginning of the dinner rush, but Charles, ever the good sport, managed to get them a table while Erik waited in line. The place was pretty crowded with teenagers, all of them still full of that beginning-of-the-school-year optimism. Charles thought about what his students would be like in high school.

His first round of parent-teacher conferences was coming up pretty soon; he’d have to have sixteen different versions of the “ _these are the skills your child has shown to excel in”_ conversation and about seven or eight of the same _“i know you’ve been taught to believe otherwise but it’s important to allow your child to pursue their goals, even if they are artistic”_ conversation. It had never been a problem for Charles growing up, what with an emotionally distant mother and a career path that was considered to be more or less stable, but Raven had been one of those children. He remembered getting a call from her while he was at Columbia, and hearing her voice quiver with worry when she said she was switching her major from business to performing arts. 

_“If you love it,” he said, “then do it.”_

_“But what if it’s a horrible mistake? What if I never find a job and I’m stuck with four years of student loans?”_

_“Then you’ll come live with me, and we’ll figure something out.”_

_She sniffed._

_“Are you sure?”_

_“I’m sure. I want you to be happy, Raven.”_

Four years later, Raven had a degree and two job offers and Charles was assistant teaching, listening to parent after parent refuse to sign their child up for dance or art or music classes. He wondered if his mother, had she been sober enough to know what was going on in Raven’s life, would have done the same.

“What are you thinking about?”

Charles was drawn out of his thoughts by Erik’s voice. He was standing in front of the table, an interesting combination of business clothes and children’s books and tex mex food and a motorcycle license, yet somehow not at all out of place.

“My sister.” Charles answered, sounding far away.

“She seems very important to you.”

“Of course. Don’t you have siblings?”

Erik shook his head no, sitting down and crowding his long legs underneath the table. He slid one of the tacos in front of Charles.

“Only child. Fortunately my mother was graced with the perfect son her first time around.”

Charles smiled. Erik smiled back and started eating.

The tacos turned out to be really good, almost exactly what he needed after the school day. The only thing that would’ve made tacos with Erik Lehnsherr better would be his couch at home and an extended X Files marathon. Out here in public he still had to pretend to be alert and enthusiastic.

“Is the taco alright?” Erik asked.

“Oh, yes, it’s great actually.”

“Good. The food here turned out to be one of the few redeeming qualities of this godforsaken state.”

They both laughed. Erik took another bite of his taco.

“What are the other redeeming qualities?”

Erik shrugged.

“Rent prices, live music, a handful of people…” he waved his hand dismissively, “I guess it’s not the worst place to live, so long as you can stomach the right wing.”

Charles made a disapproving noise that sparked more laughter from Erik. They finished the rest of their tacos in silence, the words _a handful of people_ turning over in Charles’ mind.

“Tell me about the people you work with.”

“Well,” Erik leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, “they’re assholes. Most of the time. But we all work pretty well together when they aren’t trying to invade my personal life.”

“We definitely have the latter of that in common. Although your coworkers probably don’t go around calling you a hot piece of ass.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Charles didn’t say anything, hoping Erik took it as a sign to continue talking. He seemed to have a habit of mentioning details of his life in an offhand sort of way and then never talking about them again. Charles wanted desperately to know more, about his job, his mother in Germany, his journalism days, everything there was to know about Erik. He hoped that through some combination of smiles and his excellent-listener skills he could peacefully but effectively pry everything out of him.

“There’s Angel, she spends a couple months out of the year in Mexico City, not sure what she does, but she works while she’s over there. She speaks Spanish, Italian, French, German, and English, and I think she’s working on Chinese or Japanese right now. Maybe both. Her job at the office is research, though. She’s read through about two or three hundred different language textbooks.”

“Hundred?”

Erik nodded.

“And the only other person in the company who works at the office regularly is Azazel. Russian, but raised in…Canada… or something. I’m not even sure how many languages _he_ speaks but he manages to piss me off in every single one of them.

“There are a couple people who come and go, financial and publishing advisers, mostly, but day to day it’s just the three of us.”

“I can imagine how that would get tiring.”

“You should see our office space. I don’t even have a cubicle.”

“What’s worse, two coworkers that piss you off or sixteen five year olds?”

Erik grinned, focusing on some point between the tabletop and Charles’ neck. The way Erik acted around Charles, the way he laughed more and smiled more, felt private, like the conversations they had were somehow more special to Erik than the ones with whomever else he talked to. It made Charles’ body light up and nearly shake with nervous energy.

 

-

 

The sun started to set, and Charles remembered the work he had to prepare for the next day--on top of a load of laundry that’d been sitting damp in the washing machine for almost a week--and looked back at Erik. He seemed relaxed, watching the road, but there was a sort of edge of nervousness to it. He was probably thinking about book deadlines, or his coworkers, or maybe he was nervous about the date. _Oh god_ , Charles remembered, _this was supposed to be a date_.

“Well,” Charles cleared his throat a little, “I’m going to get attacked by mosquitoes if we stay out here any longer, not that I’m having a bad time, but I should really go home and get ready for tomorrow.”

“Of course. Is your car still in the shop?”

“I get it back on Friday. If it’s not too much trouble-”

“I’d love to give you a ride home, Charles.”

“Okay.”

Maybe sometime in the far future, Charles would let Erik know that this was the first night he’d ever been on a motorcycle.

He stood at his front door awkwardly, hand hovering above the door knob. Erik was practically looming over him, feigning nonchalance when Charles turned around again.

“Thank you for dinner.”

“Thank you for joining me.”

Charles stumbled around in his brain for a reason to prolong the conversation, even though Erik didn’t look like he was ready to leave. He tried to appear just as cool as Erik was. Most likely, he just looked uncomfortable.

“You uh, you did a great job today. With the children.”

“I wasn’t nearly as good with them as you are.”

Charles laughed.

“Of course not, my friend. I went to school for it.”

There was another moment of silence. Erik’s hand was almost touching Charles’, like he was waiting for a signal.

“Charles, can I...can we-”

“Shit, Erik, come here.”

Charles reached up and pulled Erik forward with a hand on the back of his neck. He almost had to stand on his toes, but the two of them managed to fit their lips together and it was so wonderful that Charles almost sighed into Erik’s mouth.

Erik’s arms wrapped around his waist, pulling the two of them closer as Charles melted into the kiss. He ran his fingers up and down the fine hair on Erik’s neck and listened as their breathing fell into rhythm with the way their lips moved against each other. The world around them was silent, all of Charles’ attention concentrated on feeling Erik in front of him. When they finally came up for air Erik lifted a hand to Charles’ face, rubbing his thumb against his cheekbone.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

Charles was still breathless. He closed his eyes, leaning into Erik’s touch.

“Me too.”

“Are you free this Saturday?”

Charles felt laughter escape from his throat, probably out of disbelief that everything seemed to be working out. He looked up at Erik again, so full of light he was worried he might explode.

“For you, always.”

Erik smiled, a real smile that took over his face, and leaned down to kiss him again, this time slower than before. Erik was a rough man in everything he did, but Charles was starting to see more and more glimpses of softness, earlier when he was speaking to the children, and now in the way his hands glided over Charles’ back, almost protective.

Erik pulled away and Charles chased after his mouth, before finally giving up and placing a kiss on his cheek. He turned to the door and opened it before nervously looking back at Erik.

“Do you… would you like to come in?”

There was silence between them for a moment as Erik considered the invitation.

“I really want to, Charles, but I have to be at work early tomorrow.”

Charles nodded. There was probably no use in pretending not to be disappointed.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you next time.”

“Saturday?”

“Saturday.” Erik picked up the curriculum box from where he’d set it down next to his feet and handed it to Charles, kissing him quickly on the forehead. Charles smiled.

“Good night, Erik.”

“Good night.”


	4. (happy valentines day!) the one where they fuck

Erik stood on Charles’ doorstep, early again, messing with his hair as he waited for Charles to answer the door. He finally did, wearing a crisp white shirt and black slacks. It didn’t make sense how he could transform so easily from cardigan-wearing teacher to sex on a stick, and Erik still couldn’t decide which version of Charles he liked better, but he hoped there would be more. 

“Am I too formal?”

“No, you’re perfect.”

Charles blushed, and Erik felt his body heat up just from looking at him. 

 

This was going to be a long dinner.

 

Charles spent the better part of the date undressing Erik with his eyes, to the point where Erik was worried they would be kicked out of the restaurant for public indecency, if that was even possible. 

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Charles took a sip of his wine, looking up at him through his lashes. 

“ _ Mein gott _ , this is going to be the end of me.” 

Erik set his fork down in defeat and rested his chin on his hand. Charles smirked, looking impossibly cheeky and making Erik wonder what the hell he’d gotten himself into. He kicked Charles’ foot lightly under the table. 

“Anyway, as I was saying earlier,” Charles let his foot glide up and down Erik’s ankle gently, “the gymnasium is the last thing in that school that needs to be refurbished. If you ask me, I think they need to replace a good portion of the books in the library. Some of them have been there since the school opened thirty years ago.”

Erik bit the inside of his cheek, hoping that he had enough willpower not to get aroused in the middle of the restaurant. He smiled fakely at Charles. 

“Have you spoken to Miss Frost about it?”

“We all did. Apparently it was a district decision, so there’s nothing we can do.”

The waitress passed by to check up on them just as Charles stroked his calf. Erik nodded at the waitress and glared at Charles once she’d left. 

“Do you want to get dessert?” Charles asked innocently. 

“Fuck dessert.” Erik whispered, “Come home with me.”

 

-

 

“Christ, Charles, look at you.” He had made it halfway through unbuttoning Charles’ shirt, having already backed him across the front room of his apartment and onto his couch. Erik had to stop just to look at him, sprawled out over the couch cushions, the rosy blush in his cheeks spreading down his neck and chest. Charles was beautiful. 

“You’re so beautiful.”

Charles’ mouth fell open as he breathed, and Erik couldn’t resist leaning down to kiss along his neck and jaw, pushing his shirt back to reveal more and more skin. Charles fidgeted until the shirt was off. 

“Erik.”

Erik grunted in response, biting down on Charles’ neck right below where his shirt collar would be. Charles gasped, one of his hands fisting in Erik’s hair.

“Erik. Bedroom.”

“Okay.”

Erik led the way and Charles followed close behind, his hands untucking Erik’s shirt and travelling underneath. Once Erik got to the bed he turned around to see Charles kicking off his pants. After taking a minute to watch he lost his own and fell onto the bed, pulling Charles on top of him. 

He sat straddling Erik’s hips and they just looked at each other for a moment, excitement and attraction flowing rapidly between the two of them. Charles’ hands returned to Erik’s torso, trailing up and down his chest as he unbuttoned his shirt. 

“Why did we even bother with dinner?”

“I remember it being your idea.” Charles leaned down to place warm, open mouthed kisses to Erik’s collarbone. He grabbed Charles’ ass and pulled him closer. 

“If we’d done it my way,” Charles sucked on his neck before laving over the spot with his tongue, making Erik choke out a moan. “We would have already been doing this on Wednesday.”

Erik frowned, taking hold of Charles by the hips and flipping them over so Charles was underneath him. 

“If we’d done it  _ my _ way, we would have done this the night we met.”

“Do you normally pick people up from bookstores, then?” Charles was still trying to be coy, but this time Erik could tell how breathless he was getting. Erik rolled his hips down into Charles’, making him cry out. 

“Oh, fuck, Erik”

“You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”

“Erik,  _ please _ .” 

Charles was tugging at Erik’s briefs. Erik obliged, making sure both of them were finally naked and any piece of clothing was as far away as possible. All he wanted was to hear Charles moan his name like that again and again for the rest of the night. 

Seeing him like this, in his bed, Erik felt a sudden need to explore every inch of Charles. He started by leaning down to kiss him again, just because he could, now, whenever he wanted. Charles’ fingers raked through Erik’s hair, tugging on it until it was probably a total mess. Erik let his own hands travel over Charles, paying attention to every moan and whimper out of his mouth.

Charles squealed when he ran a hand up his thigh, causing Erik to look back up at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Sorry. I’m ticklish.”

He tilted his head, stroking down his thigh experimentally.

“Nope. Nope. Not in a sexual way. If you tickle me Erik I swear to god I will kick you off of this bed.” 

Erik frowned, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Charles was laughing too, his face smooth and relaxed. 

“I’m completely serious though.”

Giving up, Erik pulled his hand away and let it settle on Charles’ waist instead. Charles smiled lazily, leaning his head against the pillows to look at Erik. 

“Did I ruin a moment.” It was less of a question and more of a realization. 

“Come here. We’ll make another one.” 

Charles caressed Erik’s cheek with his hand, running a thumb over a cheekbone, and then an eyebrow, gently tracing the lines of his face. Erik couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever had sex like this, the two of them exploring one another like they had all the time in the world. He crawled up the bed to lay down next to Charles and they wrapped their arms around each other, scooting closer until their faces were almost touching. 

Erik’s hands skimmed over Charles’ back, feeling goosebumps form on his skin at the contact. Charles hummed, closing his eyes, and Erik inhaled sharply when Charles moved even closer, causing a few seconds of friction as their erections rubbed against each other. 

“That’s good.” Charles mumbled.

Erik reached between their bodies and took Charles in his hand, spreading precome from the head down the shaft as he started stroking him in earnest. Charles mimicked the action on Erik until they were panting into each other’s mouths in what was almost a kiss. Erik whined, craning his neck until he was kissing Charles for real, swallowing every gasp and moan from his mouth while lightning travelled up his spine and back down to the heat in his stomach. 

Charles became desperate, his tongue almost fucking Erik’s mouth, and Erik couldn’t stop his hand from moving faster until Charles had to break away from the kiss, gasping for air as he got closer and closer to the edge. 

Erik just watched. His face was only centimeters away from Charles, beautiful, incredible Charles, falling apart before his eyes. 

Charles’ back arched off of the bed when his orgasm finally tore through him. His hand loosened over Erik’s cock as he was lost to the sensation, and Erik pressed his face into the hot, damp skin of Charles’ neck and continued to stroke him through it. 

Charles started to breathe again, his mind coming back to earth, and he returned his attention to getting Erik off. It really didn’t take long before Erik came, having almost climaxed moments before just from  _ watching _ Charles. 

They stayed in the bed next to each other through the afterglow, sleepy and content and occasionally snickering again over the ticklish thing. Erik would have been happy with the prospect of never moving again. He wanted to stay pinned under Charles’ gaze, wrapped in white sheets and pale, freckled arms and an overwhelming sense of  _ home _ . He pulled Charles against his chest, feeling grateful for all of the things in his life that had led up to this moment, and above all, for the fact that he had Sunday off this week. 

-

 

_ > charles xavier _

 

_ > ch ch chc chc hc ch chc ch chc hc hc chc charles _

 

_ > charles you cannot just leave me hanging like this after telling me you got a second date _

 

_ > text me back u lil shit _

 

_ ugh what is it, raven? _

 

_ > YOU KNOW WHAT _

 

_ > THE DATE _

 

_ > did you finally get laid because it’s been like a million years, honestly _

 

_ you are my baby sister and this conversation is inappropriate  _

 

_ but _

_ we are together now _

 

_ > AND? _

 

_ we did have sex _

 

_ > YESSSSSS _

 

_ i feel creepy telling you about my sex life as it is happening _

 

_ > suck it up. tell me everything.  _

 

_ > wait no. not THAT kind of everything oh god _

 

_ > the date tell me about the date _

  
  


“I think I like this sister of yours.” Erik was sitting with his head resting on Charles’ shoulder as he messaged Raven. Charles would normally feel weird about having someone read his texts like this, but it  _ did _ involve Erik and he  _ was _ currently naked in Erik’s bed on a Sunday morning so he didn’t feel up for protest. 

“She’s more involved in my romantic life than she is in her own.”

“Clearly.” Erik kissed his shoulder, “Or maybe you just complain too much.”

“You know, that might be it.” 

Charles tilted his head to let Erik kiss the line of his neck. His body was still warm and heavy from sleep and Erik’s lips were even warmer. Erik bit down on a patch of skin right under his jaw and he sighed, setting his phone down on the bedside table. 

“Mmm”

Erik sucked on another spot below his ear. 

“Oh, bugger.”

“What?” He kissed his jaw loudly before sitting up.  

“I’m covered in love bites.”

“Love bites. That’s adorable.” Erik smiled and leaned forward again, this time kissing Charles on the mouth. Charles kissed him back, reaching for Erik’s shoulders until he rolled on top of him. 

“Seriously though,” He said, breath ghosting over Erik’s mouth, “my kids are going to see.”

“Say they’re bruises. Tell them you were in a fight.”

Charles laughed, shifting under Erik. Both of them were already half hard. 

“I think that may be worse than telling them I had sex with mister Erik.”

“Ooh. Call me that again.”

Erik grinned at Charles and they both dissolved into laughter. 

-

The minute Charles started down the hall after dropping off his class in the cafeteria, he ran into both Moira and Principal Frost around the corner.  They seemed to be waiting for him to do something. He stared at them for about thirty seconds before throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Fine. Alright. We’re together now.”

Emma smiled and clapped her hands while Moira whooped. 

“Dear god, why do people keep treating my life like it’s some sort of soap opera?” He whined, walking past them to the teacher’s lounge. They parted ways, Emma laughing and heading back to her office and Moira trailing behind Charles. 

“Maybe you just complain too much.”

“Oh, shut it.”

Moira looped her arm through Charles’ and they walked down the hallway together. Charles was still feeling uncharacteristically carefree and almost lightheaded from the weekend. He looked over at Moira. 

“You know, this is probably why Erik thought we were dating.” 

“He thought we were dating?”

“I have a hunch that plenty of people around here think we’re dating.”

Moira laughed, but before she walked into the teacher’s lounge she turned back around and whispered, sounding almost concerned, 

“Maybe it’s better that way.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Charles responded in a hushed tone. Moira looked around the room. The rest of the kindergarten and first grade teachers were all inside, split up into groups and all having their own conversations. Only a few of them noticed Charles and Moira’s entrance. 

“We’ll talk about this later, okay?” She patted his shoulder and made her way to the fridge. Charles slumped against the doorway. 

 

He and Moira weren’t alone again until the end of the day. They crossed paths in the parking lot and Charles remembered their unfinished conversation from earlier. Once he’d loaded his car he walked back to Moira’s. She was rummaging through her bag for her car keys. 

“What were you talking about earlier?”

Moira looked up from her bag and gave him the facial equivalent of  _ oh honey _ . 

“Charles. You’re a gay man.”

“Bisexual, but go on.”

“You’re a bisexual man. And that’s fine.”

“ _ I know. _ ”

“But there are a lot of people here who aren’t going to think that’s fine.”

Charles sighed. He’d had this conversation before, more times than he could count ever since he came out. It always ended with some rephrasing of  _ I think you just need to be a little less gay around these people _ even though neither party had any idea what the fuck that meant. 

“I’m not going to pretend that I’m straight, Moira.”

“Charles, I don’t want you to. But in this neighborhood, in this state, you could lose your job. You know that.”

Charles felt his throat tighten. He did know that. He just didn’t want to have to think about it. He liked to imagine that Emma wouldn’t let something like that happen, but unfortunately her position didn’t give her the authority to protect him from the district executives, who, if word were to get out, would definitely not be on Charles’ side. He’d heard countless stories of men and women having to quit their jobs working with children and get some desk job in a school district headquarters somewhere. 

It made Charles so angry that his whole life could be thrown off for something like his sexuality. He took in a shaky breath. Moira set her bag down on the trunk of her car and pulled him into a hug. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I just want you to be careful okay?”

“Okay.” Charles mumbled into her shoulder, doing a weak job of hugging her back. 

She studied him for a moment after they separated, and Charles could feel himself becoming very, very tired. Moira gave him a sad little smile. 

“Go home Charles. Call Erik. It’ll be okay.”

He nodded. 

 

-

 

“I hate this, but she has a point.”

“I know, Erik, I never said she was wrong. It’s just…” Charles took a deep breath. He’d made it almost ten minutes into the phone call with his voice steady. “This isn’t the 1950s.”

Erik sighed. 

“I suppose this means I shouldn’t come back to the school to see you.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It is the opposite of your fault.”

“Maybe I should come surprise you at your office instead.”

“I’d like that. But Charles?”

“Hmm?”

“Careful on the roads. Don’t underestimate the deer; they know your car now.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Erik laughed, coming out almost too loud on Charles’ side of the call, and Charles realized that Moira had been right. It was going to be okay. 


	5. the one where Erik is embarrassed (twice)

Erik was under the assumption that Angel and Azazel would both be  out for the day. A new investor had requested at least two of them to be present at a company-wide meeting, and it was pretty clear that his impending deadlines and social shortcomings made Erik deserve to stay at the office the most out of the three of them. Having the office to himself was one of the few instances where working at the office was preferable to working from home, and it was also Friday, so Erik texted Charles that he could come by if he wanted. 

In the midst of his fifth edit on the French manners book, the sound of Charles’ car pulling up outside finally gave Erik a good enough excuse to procrastinate for a while. He stood up, thanked god he was the only one in the office, and went outside to meet him. 

Charles was just getting out of his car and he smiled brightly at Erik. He looked like he’d come straight from school, wearing a white button down and a sweater vest and a yellow smiley face sticker on his chest that said  _ Way to Go!,  _ which clashed hilariously with his designer sunglasses. Erik saw that there was colored marker ink staining his right hand as he waved at him. 

“Hey.” Erik said. 

“Hey yourself.” Charles locked the car and snaked his hand around Erik’s waist, “Is this it?”

He looked at the tiny office in front of them, sandwiched by buildings on either side and, honestly, pretty pathetic looking. They didn’t even have a sign. Erik scoffed, planted a kiss on Charles’ forehead, because he could, because they were basically alone here. 

“Yep. It’s a shithole.”

Charles laughed and Erik led him inside. 

After a tour that took maybe five minutes and consisted of Erik standing in the same spot and just pointing at different corners of the office, Erik stole a second chair from Angel’s desk and they both sat down. 

Erik’s desk was an eyesore. He had a tendency to pull out manuscripts left and right until his laptop was buried in paper, and then hastily push them all to the side so he could work. The result was a small mountain range of stapled, paperclipped, and even loose papers strewn about every corner of his desk, with a small clearing in the center for whatever he was actually working on. 

Charles rolled his chair up to the corner of Erik’s desk and started sorting through one of the piles. 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t worry.” Charles said, his voice quiet and tired and a little intimate in the empty office, “I’m just snooping.”

Erik smiled to himself. He opened up his laptop and kept working, somehow feeling less fidgety now that Charles was there. He absently watched him out of the corner of his eye, flipping through manuscripts and, against his words, sorting them into neat piles. 

He worked for almost two hours after that, to the vague sounds of Charles milling about. 

“Are your coworkers not coming in at all today?” Charles called from their makeshift breakroom. It wasn’t even a room, really, just a table and a collection of appliances and a fire hazard. Erik only registered about two of the words he’d said. He looked up from his laptop.

“What?” 

“Your coworkers.” Charles stepped away from the table with two mugs in his hands. Erik slowly regained his senses, the smell of coffee, the overhead lights, the sound--Charles must have turned music on at some point. 

“Oh. No. They had a meeting this morning. Probably took the whole day off.”

He took hold of the mug Charles held out to him, and then realized that his desk had been organized, along with half of the office, at that. There were neat stacks of paper on his desk and Charles had pulled a bin from somewhere to be used for recycling and the haphazard pile of textbooks in the middle of the room that he and Angel frequently had to dig through was stacked and (what the hell) ordered by language. 

“Were you cleaning this whole time?”

“Yes.” Charles took an innocent sip of his coffee, as if he had broken some sort of rule. Erik just shook his head, amused. 

“You’re so weird.” 

“Whatever.” Charles leaned against the edge of Erik’s desk, because it was clean enough now that the action wouldn’t have spurred an avalanche of paper. “I’ve been feeling restless all day today.”

“Why?” Erik shut his laptop. He leaned back in his chair and watched Charles. He had probably been faking the carefree, relaxed look he’d had when he arrived, because now he really  _ did _ look restless, tired and stressed and almost sad. It made Erik’s chest feel heavy. It had only been about a week since Charles called him Monday night sounding totally wired and rambling on about losing his job and pretending to be straight and the million other things he’d found to stress about. 

He was worried at first that Charles was one of those people who lived with his stress, let it settle inside his mind and eat at him night and day. It was pretty clear now that Charles was one of those people. Charles laughed awkwardly, nervously, and Erik spoke again so he wouldn’t have to. 

“Is this about last week?”

Charles nodded. Erik took a long sip of the coffee he’d made him. They had shitty coffee at the office, which he’d always been meaning to replace, but somehow the fact that Charles made it meant that it tasted a little bit better. 

“I tried to let it rest but...I don’t know.” He dragged a hand down his face, letting it rest against his cheek. “It’s been bothering me.”

Erik rolled closer in his chair and set his coffee down. His hands found Charles’ waist, the fine fabric of his dress shirt. He must have taken the sweater vest off at some point and rolled up his sleeves. Erik didn’t know how he’d managed to miss that. 

“Have you talked to Emma about it?” 

“No. I probably should.” 

Charles’ free hand came down to Erik’s shoulder, his neck, tracing his jaw. They hadn’t really seen each other for a few days, since Charles had tried to sleep over on a weeknight and had to wake up at 4:00 just to be ready for school the next morning. He’d been gone when Erik woke up. There was a sticky note on Erik’s mirror that read  _ never again  _ in scribbly, half-asleep handwriting. 

As much as Erik didn’t mind odd hours, Charles really needed to function on a rigid schedule, which meant he was only (sometimes) free in the evenings and (if they were lucky) on Saturdays and Sundays.

Erik had already saved all upcoming school holidays into his calendar. 

“What can I do so you won’t feel restless?” Erik mused, keeping his eyes locked on Charles’ as his soft, ink-stained hand explored the lines of Erik’s face, slid under the collar of Erik’s shirt. 

“Change the minds of the billions of people who think I should go to jail for this.” Charles smirked, eyes a little empty, but there was mostly humor behind it. Erik snorted. 

“Okay. Let me rephrase.” Erik pulled Charles forward into his lap. Charles set his coffee on the desk and both of his hands were on Erik’s shoulders. “What can I do that is realistic and which will make you feel slightly less restless for at least, like, an hour.” 

Charles laughed, which rang like relief in Erik’s ears. 

“You’re so weird.” He said, and Erik wondered how they’d managed to come up with what sounded like the worst collection of endearments any two people could have. 

And then Charles kissed him, and he didn’t really care.

 

-

 

Angel and Azazel walked into the office about fifteen minutes into their impromptu makeout, in time to witness Charles spread out on Erik’s lap and Erik licking into Charles’ mouth but thankfully too early to witness what  _ would _ have happened had they been unattended for a few minutes more. 

Both of them responded with some form of  _ Jesus Christ, Erik _ , and Erik groaned, dropped his head against the back of his chair. Charles apparently thought it was a good time to introduce himself, while he was still flushed and sitting in Erik’s lap, and all Erik could say was  _ I hate my life _ .

 

-

 

“Do you want to go to the zoo with me?” 

Charles looked up from his phone. He had been emailing back and forth with Emma and Moira all morning, which was potentially too serious of a conversation to be having at 10 AM in Erik’s bed. Emma turned out to be on Moira’s side, also known as the  _ maybe just pretend you’re straight  _ side, but she insisted that if anything happened, she would stand by Charles. The second part, at least, made him feel a little better. 

“The zoo?” 

“Yes.” Erik was getting dressed on the other side of the room, which left Charles conflicted, because as much as he loved Erik’s naked body, he also loved watching him put on clothes, especially the nice business suits he had to wear for meetings. Erik paused, halfway through buttoning his shirt, when he noticed Charles very blatantly staring. 

“The zoo.” He repeated, spending an agonizing amount of time on the next button, “Do you want to come with me.”

“Sure but, uh…” Charles trailed off. His mind was trapped between Emma’s last email and the skin of Erik’s chest that was still visible. Erik raised an eyebrow, but he seemed to pick up on what he was saying. 

“Consider it field research.”

Charles’ face lit up. 

“Are you going to make bilingual animal books?”

Erik looked away almost awkwardly, which made Charles more excited. He pushed the duvet off and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, stared up at his very intimidating but secretly adorable boyfriend. 

“That’s adorable.” 

Erik rolled his eyes, tying his tie with frightening efficiency. 

“I’ll make sure to get you a whole set, then.” 

Charles smiled and flopped backwards onto the bed. 

“I expect nothing less.” 

Erik finished dressing and then knelt over him, hands on either side of Charles’ shoulders. He looked down at Charles like he was a few seconds from laughter. 

“Are you ever planning on getting out of this bed, Charles?”

“No.” Charles answered, and he craned his neck up to kiss under Erik’s jaw. 

“Good.” Erik met him halfway the second time, kissing him firmly on the mouth. “If you’re still here after my meeting I’ll bring home something to eat.”

“Well now I’m definitely going to stay here all day.”

Erik made an amused noise in his throat while he mouthed down Charles’ neck, and his lips felt like heaven against Charles’ sleep-warmed skin. If he was a little more tired and a little more horny and a little less insistent on Erik becoming a world-renowned author he would have tried harder to get him to skip his meeting.

As it was, Erik eventually stood up and smoothed out the wrinkles in his clothes. 

“Maybe that’s what I’ll do if I lose my job.”

“Stay in my bed all day?” 

“Yeah.” Charles let his eyes flutter closed.

“I’m pretty sure the reason you like my bed so much is just because you get to sleep in it after a week of running around with five-year olds.”

Charles breathed out a laugh. 

“You might be right.”

He felt the mattress shift again, a kiss on the cheek and then it shifted back, and then Erik was leaving. He listened to footsteps, keys, the door closing. Erik’s motorcycle started, and Charles was alone in his apartment. For the first time, he realized. He gave a few minutes of thought to the different ways he could be taking advantage of that situation. 

Before he knew it he’d fallen asleep again. 

 

-

 

“ _ So, are we gonna talk about Erik’s gorgeous boyfriend or what _ ?” Azazel (speaking German just in case) scooted his chair in between Erik and Angel at the conference table, even though there was clearly not enough space for him. Erik sighed and scooted over before somebody’s chair tipped off balance. 

“ _ Oh my god. _ ” Angel’s entire face lit up, “ _ Can we please talk about Erik’s gorgeous boyfriend. _ ”

“ _ Erik’s gorgeous  _ British _ boyfriend. _ ”

“ _ Shut your mouths. Both of you. _ ” Erik tried very hard to not look as annoyed as he felt, because they were relying on this meeting in order to be able to keep the utilities at the office for the next two months. 

“ _ Fine, alright, whatever. _ ” Azazel held up his hands defensively, “ _ I friended him on facebook anyway. _ ”

“ _ You what? _ ” Erik and Angel said, at the same time, with very different tones of voice.

Erik dragged a hand down his face, figuring he may as well remove himself from this conversation before it got worse. Angel and Azazel’s talking got quieter and faster and  _ creepier _ and Erik just sat with his face in his hands and waited for the tender release of death, or for the meeting to start. Whatever came first. 


	6. the one where it's been almost a month

For some reason Charles had expected their trip to the zoo to be more for leisure than anything, that Erik would occasionally take some notes and then devote his attention back to Charles. Needless to say, it was a bit of a let down when they entered the zoo and Erik immediately started going back and forth between taking an excessive amount of pictures and typing out paragraphs of notes into his phone. 

Charles pouted. He had been sitting on the bench next to the zebra exhibit for almost fifteen minutes now. As much fun as it was to watch Erik jaunt around like a tourist in his track pants and sunglasses in the October heat, it was really starting to get old. 

Erik grinned when he saw Charles coming towards him. 

“Having fun?” He asked, letting his camera hang around his neck. 

“Not to be selfish,” Charles pushed his sunglasses up to his forehead, “but I was hoping you would pay at least a little more attention to me than to the damn animals.” 

Erik laughed through his nose. He slung an arm over Charles’ shoulders. 

“You knew what you were getting.” 

Charles huffed. 

“At least buy me a shaved ice for my efforts.”

“Of course.” Erik kissed his forehead quickly, careful to not be too public about it. 

“Anything for you, dear.” He said flatly, walking off to find the concession stand. 

Charles watched him walk away for a few minutes, shaking his head in disbelief and attraction and mostly attraction. He was deciding whether he should go after him or to just wait next to the zebras when something hit his leg. Or rather, some _ one _ .

“Mr. X!” 

Charles whipped his head around, disoriented for a second, before he looked down at the five year old who had just attached herself to his left leg. 

“Oh! Hello Marie.” He smiled. 

In the past three months he had seen Marie transform from being too shy to even speak to him into one of the brightest students in the class. She was especially susceptible to Erik’s books. Only two days passed after Erik’s visit before she started asking when he was going to come back. 

“What are you doing here, Mr. X?” She asked, and Charles couldn’t care less about the circulation he was losing in his leg when she was looking up at him like that.

“I’m here to see the animals, of course!” He exclaimed. 

He could never avoid letting the children’s excitement become his own, even though he probably looked like a huge dork. 

“Me too!” Marie said. 

Charles gently tried to pry her off of his leg so he could squat down to her level. 

“Are you here with your parents, Marie?” He had met them a few times, in the mornings and at conferences and fleetingly at the author visit. They seemed closed off but, based on what he knew of Marie alone, were probably perfectly good parents. 

She nodded, and Charles could see it in her face as she realized that she had just abandoned her parents when she ran up to him. She looked around worriedly for a few seconds before she spotted them walking their way. 

“There’s mommy and daddy.” She pointed, and Charles waved at the frazzled looking Mr. and Mrs. Caldecott. They waved back, visibly relieved to recognize that it was him.

“Good.” Charles waited for her to look back into his eyes. 

“Be careful in big places like this.” He said, “Your mommy and daddy get very afraid if they think you’re lost.”

Marie dismissed him with a  _ yes, Mr. X _ once her parents were close enough for her to run to, and he stood up and shrugged. He tried, at least. 

“What a coincidence!” Marie’s mother, Priscilla, if Charles’ memory was correct, took hold of her hand instinctively. 

“Great to see you two.” Charles smiled, trying to hide that he was more than a little bit uncomfortable. Marie and her parents showed up just minutes after Erik left. He tried very hard not to think about it. 

“And you, Marie. I better see you standing up for show and tell this week.” He gave her a theatrically stern look and she giggled. 

“We’ll be sure to prepare her for both.” Marie’s father picked her up in his arms. His name was Owen. Charles was pretty sure he was a pastor, actually. So he had quite possibly run into the highest-risk family just seconds after his gay boyfriend gave him a gay kiss. So fuck. 

Charles smiled through the alarms that were blaring in his mind. 

“Look, it’s Mister Erik!” Marie fidgeted excitedly and Charles turned to the direction she was looking. 

Erik was standing a couple yards away at an intersection in the sidewalk, with his camera around his neck and two snow cones in his hands and a very awkward, attempted smile at the unfamiliar child yelling his name. Charles thought he looked completely adorable. 

He waved him over, feeling more or less safe in the fact that Erik knew what kind of act they needed to pull in front of people from the school. 

“Hallo.” He said to Marie, who was no doubt the least menacing of them all. 

“Guten tag.” She gave him a toothy grin and Charles could see the corners of his mouth twitching into a real smile. Maybe this time Erik would believe him when he said his books were making a difference.

“You’re the author!” Priscilla announced. Erik nodded, more than a little uncomfortable at the attention. 

“What a coincidence!” She continued, “Unless you two are here together?”

Charles and Erik started speaking at the same time, neither one sure of how they should go about saving themselves from turning the word  _ together _ into an accusation. 

“Charles has become very helpful in my writing process.” Erik managed to get out, “Seeing as I have absolutely no experience with children.” 

Charles almost cringed at how flippant that was. He let it slide anyway.  

“Are y’all here for a book?” Priscilla asked, with almost the same excitement Charles had had over multilingual animals just a week earlier.

“Yes but,” Charles held a finger to his lips, made sure Priscilla could see him glancing at Marie by way of gesturing, “it’s a secret.”

Marie’s parents nodded. 

“We’ll let you get back to work, then.” Owen smiled, and yeah, he was definitely the one who said he was a pastor. Charles returned his smile, waved at Marie as her parents carried her away to the next exhibit. 

He let himself breathe again once they were out of sight. 

“You’re so good with children.” Erik observed. 

“I just saw my life flash before my eyes.” Charles mumbled, because the juxtaposition of Erik being affectionate in public  _ for once in a blue moon _ and his student’s conservative parents running into him was almost too dangerous for him to have made it out alive. 

“What?” 

“Let’s go back to the car so I can tell you about it.” Charles put his sunglasses back on his nose. “And by tell you I mean make out with you.”

Erik looked down at the two snow cones starting to drip in his hands, and back up at Charles. 

“I literally  _ just  _ bought these.”

“I’ll pay you back.” 

 

-

 

_ one month later  _

 

The phone rang and it just barely pulled Erik’s mind out of focus. He recognized the sound coming from somewhere, but otherwise kept working, trying to perfectly align the spacing of the illustrations that had come in that morning for Spanish manners. He was content letting it blend into the background, until something hit his head and the world outside of his laptop snapped back. 

“What the fuck.” Erik whipped his head up. “What the fuck was that.” 

“Empty water bottle.” Angel said, almost completely hidden behind her stack of Portugese books. 

He squinted at her. She seemed to sense it without having to look. 

“That was  _ your _ phone, dumbass. You let it ring out twice.”

“If I have to hear one more second of the Apple default ringtone your phone is going into the street.” Azazel called from whatever the hell he was trying to do at the coffee machine for the third time today (because Erik knew from experience that he couldn’t make coffee for shit).

“Okay. Alright. I’m getting it.” Erik shuffled around on his desk. 

He had two missed calls from Emma Frost. 

_ Oh no _ . 

Right as he was about to dial her back she called again, and he picked up before the first ring, taking long strides to the door so he could talk outside. 

“This is Erik Lehnsherr.” 

“Hello Erik.” The second he heard Emma’s voice he could imagine her face, her polite smile and soft features and slightly terrifying propensity for eye contact. 

Erik was in the process of figuring out what to say next, because you don’t say  _ what’s up? _ To a woman like Emma Frost, but he would vomit at the sound of his own voice saying something like  _ to what do I owe the pleasure _ . Emma spoke up again, finally. 

“It’s about Charles.”

“Oh.  _ Oh. _ What about Charles?” Erik didn’t have the slightest idea why Emma would be calling him about Charles, especially considering that Charles could have just called him directly. Overall he was confused and disoriented and still seeing phantom squares of light from hours in front of his computer screen. 

“Is Charles okay?” Erik asked a second later. 

“Yes. Well, no. One of his student’s parents found out about you two.”

“Fuck.” Erik breathed, even though fuck was also probably very high on the list of things you don’t say to Emma Frost. He figured he could be pardoned in this situation. 

“They went straight to the district.”

“ _ Fuck _ .”

Erik ran a hand through his hair, trying to remain calm when really he wanted to just let his body shake with anger. He made himself breathe, waited for Emma to speak again. After a long pause where Emma was seemingly doing the same, she sighed. 

“There are some things we need to talk about. All of us.”

“I can come over there now.”

“Good.” Emma said, “Come to my office. We’ll see you soon.”

“Bye.” Erik hung up, shoved his phone in his pocket. He closed his eyes and slipped his hand over his face. 

“Fuck.” He said into his palm, for the third time in the same ten-minute span.

Erik didn’t go back inside for the rest of his things. He got on his motorcycle and took off for the school and broke more than a few speed limits on the way there. 

 

Charles, Emma, and Moira were all in Emma’s office, none of them speaking. Emma was absorbed in her computer (an enviable dual-screen setup like Erik had been campaigning Azazel for since the start), clicking from page to page every few seconds. Moira was standing against the wall, biting her nails and watching Charles nervously. 

Charles was literally just sitting in the child-sized chair in front of Emma with his face against the surface of her desk. Erik could tell he probably hadn’t moved in at least half an hour. 

Both Moira and Emma looked up when Erik walked in, and said almost in unison, 

“Erik, you’re here.” 

Erik couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say upon entering this sort of  _ meeting _ . He waited until Charles looked up at him from the desk, face blank between his hunched shoulders. 

“Hey.” He said, only addressing Charles. Charles clearly tried his utmost to smile. It didn’t work. 

Erik took another chair from the corner of her office and sat down next to Charles. Charles didn’t really look at him, which was worse than if Erik had to look into his sad eyes a second time. 

Charles was ashamed. He was already blaming himself for everything. Erik could feel anger coming back again, already. He turned his head away and glared at the floor. 

If the two of them weren’t so comically large compared to the chairs they were sitting in, they would have looked like they were in trouble with the principal, sitting in her office like this. 

Emma finally looked up from the monitors. 

“Alright.” Her voice was uncharacteristically light, like she was also holding herself back. And doing a damn of a better job than Erik, who was clenching his fists hard enough to draw blood from his palms. 

“It looks like Mr. and Mrs. Caldecott emailed the district head last night, including multiple members of the school board.”

“Marie’s parents.” Charles supplied, voice muffled by the hand over his face.

Finally it made sense. Erik had spent the entire drive there trying to figure out how they had been caught; it was the family they ran into at the zoo. The zoo that Erik had dragged Charles to. But it had been almost a full month since that had happened; Charles was sure they were safe by now. 

“Yes. I won’t read the message if you don’t want me to.” Emma clasped her hands together on top of her desk, watching Charles even though his head was still hanging between his shoulders and his face was covered by his hand. 

“Read it.” He said. 

Emma waited for a beat, and her face contained her own equivalent of worry. Erik tried to relax his hands before it got worse. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, aching to touch Charles, who was right next to him and basically pretending Erik  _ wasn’t there _ . 

It had to be that Charles just dealt with these things in a different way, a way that Erik didn’t understand. It couldn’t be that Charles had changed his mind about Erik or anything. It couldn’t.  

“It has come to our attention--” Emma paused, cleared her throat lightly. Erik could sense her powerful exterior starting to falter. She started again. 

“ _ It has come to our attention that Charles Xavier, our daughter’s kindergarten teacher at Juniper Elementary, is engaged in a homosexual relationship. Whether or not the district is already aware of this, we ask that this issue be addressed immediately.  _

_ We have already spoken to many other parents in the area, and while Charles Xavier is free to be a homosexual as he sees fit, he is a strong threat to our schools having a safe and moral learning environment.  _

_ On behalf of our family, our daughter who has, sadly, already been exposed to Mr. Xavier’s lifestyle choices, and other concerned parents throughout the district, we ask that Mr. Xavier be reconsidered in his position working with children, and that his teaching record thus far be investigated by the board.  _

_ Thank you,  _

_ Priscilla and Owen Caldecott _ ”

Charles let out a long sigh. He dropped his hand from his face and sat up straighter, presumably giving up on any hope of this situation not fucking him over. Emma, Erik, and Moira were all watching him closely. 

“I’m so sorry Charles.” Emma’s voice was weighed down with sympathy. 

“What have they told you?” Charles asked, unconcerned with the way his voice was barely level enough to form the words. 

“They’re going to investigate.” 

Charles stared up at the ceiling for a moment. He brought his gaze back to Earth and back to Erik, and Erik didn’t know what to do, other than to look into his eyes and hope that neither of them fall apart. 

“What are our options?” Charles asked, speaking to Emma, obviously, but not turning away from Erik. 

Erik figured to hell with it, he reached out and pressed his hand to Charles’ face, keeping him together as best as he could. Charles leaned into it but pulled his hand away a second later, cold hands and cold eyes. 

Emma waited until the attention was back on her before answering. 

“They’re going to investigate starting in December, most likely. You could resign, effective at the end of the semester, which offers at least a little bit of closure. I promise I could get you another teaching job anywhere you want.”

She watched for Charles’ reaction that didn’t come. She continued.

“It’s not too late to deny the accusation, either through terminating your relationship or,” Emma’s eyes flicked up to Moira for a split second, back down to Charles, “or just by lying. But that’s an indefinite lie you would have to live with.” 

Charles nodded. 

“Or you can let them investigate and hope that the board is on your side.”

Erik snorted, as if any school board full of concerned parents and Trump apologetics would be on their side.

“ _ Or _ ,” Emma’s voice seemed to apply to the whole group of them now, “we can take it to court. Argue that your freedoms are being violated merely by the  _ idea _ of an investigation. Which they are, in my opinion.”

Erik perked up. 

“Austin has anti-discriminatory laws.” He said. Charles didn’t acknowledge him, or the topic in general. He was staring holes into the surface of Emma’s desk. 

“That’s true.” Moira finally joined in the conversation, “They’re not much but it’s enough to build a case on.”

“I’m with you no matter what you decide to do, Charles.” Emma insisted, and she was reaching out to rest her hand on Charles’ shoulder when he stood up abruptly, almost knocking his chair over. 

“I…” He started, and Erik could see the anxiety coursing through him, his hands shook with it like Erik’s did with anger. 

“I need a drink.” He said finally, voice tight around the words. He left the room after that, and Emma and Erik and Moira all exchanged concerned looks. 

Erik left only a minute later. He rode his motorcycle across the parking lot to wait by Charles’ car. The sun was setting in shades of orange. He told himself to breathe. 

Charles appeared in front of him and pulled him out of whatever fitful trance he had slipped into. 

“Let me drive you home.” Erik said, leaving no margins for protest in his voice. Charles just glanced at his car and nodded. 

His hands were loose around Erik’s waist during the ride to his apartment. 

“You don’t have to stay.” He said at the doorstep. Erik cocked his head to the side. It was Friday, which meant that Erik  _ could _ stay, for once. He could stay and they could talk about it and they could forget about it and they could talk about it again. 

“I’ll leave if you want me to, but--”

“I meant,” Charles looked away. Erik saw his eyes shine in the fading light. “I meant that you don’t have to stay. With me.” 


	7. the one where erik stays

_ You don’t have to stay. With me _ .  

Erik took a long sip of his wine. It was the only alcohol Charles had in his apartment: two bottles of white wine that he was waiting to drink on a special occasion. They both figured it was special enough, the threat of Charles’ career, his reputation, and the idea that he didn’t want Erik to stay through all of it. The possibility that he _ didn’t want Erik _ . 

If Charles said he wanted to break up, Erik would do it. And he would get over it, eventually. His work would probably go to shit, his coworkers would tiptoe around him for at least a month, he would cycle through hating himself and hating everyone else, but he would deal with it. If that was what Charles wanted. 

Sitting across from him on the kitchen floor, Erik hadn’t a fucking clue what Charles wanted. He had said those words, it was his idea, and yet he still let Erik come inside, he still poured him a glass of wine without having to ask. 

Neither of them really knew what to say to each other. Erik had things he  _ wanted _ to say; he wanted to say that Charles should quit and find somewhere better and take it to court, that he was already coming up with a list of people they could contact to help build his case, and that the thought had never even crossed his mind that they would break up. 

But he knew that Charles didn’t want to be told what he should do, least of all by someone like Erik who had never had to go through this sort of thing, and probably never would. 

Erik drained his glass and filled it again. Charles held his own glass out and Erik topped it off as well. He let his head fall back against the kitchen cabinets, stared up at the ceiling. 

“If you want me to go, I’ll go.” The words tumbled out of his mouth, scraping like thorns against his head and his heart. 

The air, the kitchen, the entire apartment was stale and silent. 

“I don’t.” Charles whispered. 

 

-

 

If Charles hadn’t drank a bottle and a half of expensive white wine (the bottles that Raven had sent him back in August, the same ones he had been saving for a  _ special occasion _ ) he was sure he wouldn’t have fallen asleep so easily. 

Waking up in the middle of the night with a splitting headache and his body completely lit up with stress only confirmed that. 

He sat up in bed, almost jumped when he felt something shift until he remembered that Erik was still there. Charles watched as Erik rolled over, still asleep, curling his hands in the sheets. He looked fitful and angry, even in sleep. 

Charles had been able to feel his anger earlier. It came off of him in waves. The sight of it only made Charles feel worse, because Erik didn’t deserve to suffer for this. He didn’t have to. 

But trying to explain that to Erik was making it worse too, it seemed. The tension between them was barely softened by their drinking and silence. He could still feel it even as Erik slept next to him. 

Charles stumbled into the kitchen, flicked on the dim, yellow light over the stovetop. He felt around in the cabinet for advil and swallowed two or three, he was vaguely counting. It was unlikely that he’d be able to fall asleep again if he tried, and tossing and turning in bed didn’t seem at all appealing, so he figured he’d just stay in the kitchen awhile. He flipped through all of the books cluttering the island, through children’s books and non-children’s books (that he would read here and there whenever he needed a break from children’s books). His copy of  _ Lunchtime in France _ had somehow ended up in the mix. 

He needed to get a new one, because Alex had taken a red crayon to it a few weeks ago. Charles had to scold him, of course. But then he took it home that weekend and he and Erik laughed over it for a while, and then Erik signed the inside along with a note in French that Charles still needed to translate but was  _ pretty sure _ said something dirty. So he definitely wasn’t taking that back to the classroom. 

He leaned over the counter on his elbows, flipping through the book slowly. 

“Charles. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

Charles looked up, his chin resting on his hands. Erik stood, tired and slouched against the doorway and Charles could tell he must have had trouble sleeping, too. Charles took a deep breath.

“Cornered.”

Erik gave him a look equivalent to saying  _ that’s not funny _ and Charles frowned down at the countertop.

“Sorry I...okay. Anger. I guess. I feel trapped. I feel like I hate myself even more than when I was a teenager and I first realised I was…” Charles sighed. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his face and wondered why he wasn’t crying already. He usually cried so easy, at things smaller, simpler than this. But for some reason he was closer to feeling nothing than he was to feeling upset. 

There was a numb, dry sort of dread that had settled in his chest. 

“I really don’t want to bring you into this.” He said quietly. 

“Into what?”

“Everything. The investigation, the possible court case I know everyone wants me to be the face of. What it’s all going to do to me.”

“Charles” Erik’s voice was gentle, for once. Charles was expecting him to be angry, to raise his voice, even, like he probably wanted to earlier. 

Erik leaned against the counter on the other side of the island.

“Do you really think I would want to break up because of that?”

“You don’t know if you would.”

“Please look at me.”

Charles reluctantly dropped his hands to the counter, flicked his gaze up to Erik, and yeah, he could see in the dim light that Erik was still upset. He could see it in his face and his eyes and his shoulders. Erik was apparently just bloody good at controlling himself, because the only feeling coming through his voice at that moment was concern.

“I’m not going to break up with you, Charles. Please stop saying things like that.” 

The weight of Erik’s gaze and Erik’s words was too much. Charles looked away first, trying his best to breathe even and feel even. He didn’t want to talk about any of it anymore, even though he could feel it eating him alive from the inside. He didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t know anything. 

“Where’s the advil?” Erik asked after a while. Charles fetched it for him out of the cabinet, counted two into his hand and held them out to Erik. 

“I think I want to get back in bed.” He said. Erik nodded and Charles walked past him, back to the bedroom. He knew he probably wasn’t going to sleep, but his head still hurt and his body was tired even if his brain wasn’t. He got into bed and leaned against the headboard. 

Erik came in a minute later and stood awkwardly between the door and the bed. Charles switched on the lamp at his bedside table. Erik looked like he was studying Charles almost, like he was trying to figure him out. His brow furrowed. 

“What is it?” 

“You don’t think you’re worth it, do you.” Erik said quietly, and--there it was--almost angry. 

“What?”

“You think I’ll want to break up with you. You think that it’s not going to be worth it for me to stay. You do.”

Charles looked down at his lap, at his hands wringing together. 

“I do.” He whispered. 

“ _ Charles. _ ” Erik breathed, and Charles didn’t have to look at him, he couldn’t, he tried to speak again and choked on air. As he stared down at the bedsheets he could hear Erik moving, could feel the mattress shift when he sat down on the edge of the bed. 

He leaned closer, slow and deliberate, took Charles’ face in his hands and regarded his tear-filled eyes and his tired face like it was any other day, in the way that always came before something like  _ you’re so pretty _ or  _ you’re beautiful _ or  _ stop being cute you idiot _ . And that only seemed to make it worse.

Charles took fistfuls of Erik’s t-shirt, pulled him forward and found his mouth and kissed him desperately, and it was really the first time they had touched each other since before they got the news. It felt different; not worse in any way, or more sad, but somehow new. Charles kissed Erik and Erik kissed Charles and it was like the air and the space and the feeling between them had shifted ever so slightly. 

“ _ Charles _ ,” Erik kissed his jaw, whispered against his skin, “ _ Charles Charles Charles. _ ” like it was some sort of prayer, a mantra, grounding them into the present moment. Charles just held onto him tighter, blinked back the tears while Erik’s mouth moved along his jaw, his neck. It was too much, not enough, he couldn’t bear it anymore. 

“I love you.” He said for the first time, voice broken. 

Erik pushed him further down against the bed, all but sprawling over him on his knees as he kissed Charles harder, deeper. Charles’ breath shook and his hands shook and all he could do was hold on and keep pressing their mouths together again and again and again. 

He started to miss, landing kisses on the corner of Erik’s mouth, on his cheek and jaw and the side of his nose. Erik exhaled in what could have been a laugh. He sank down, covered Charles’ body with his own and let his head fall onto the pillow next to Charles. And they just stayed like that, together, breathing and holding each other and trying not to fall apart. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Charles finally said. He had let his body settle between the mattress and the weight of Erik on top of him. Their breathing had steadied into one rhythm, deep and heavy and the only sound in the apartment. But his mind still couldn’t relax. 

“You don’t have to know,” Erik mumbled, voice muffled from the way his face was pressed into the pillows, “not tonight. You don’t have to know tonight.”

Charles whined half-heartedly. Erik lifted himself onto one elbow and looked down at him. His face was still flushed and his pupils had blown wide from lust and seeing it just made Charles wish he could forget everything and kiss him again.

“But you know I’m with you no matter what you decide to do.”

“I know.” Charles slid his hands around Erik’s biceps and pulled him back down, spread his legs wider so Erik could settle in between them and breathed out a moan at the feeling of Erik’s cock against his own.

“I’m not breaking up with you.” Erik mouthed against Charles’ neck. Charles could smell the hints of cologne left on Erik’s skin from that day, the herbal shampoo that he always used, even the laundry detergent in his clothes. All at once all he could feel was Erik. He found he didn’t want to feel anything else. 

“Okay. Okay, I believe you. Can we stop talking about it now.” 

Erik chuckled. 

“That’s better.” 

And Erik kissed him again, like he couldn’t stop himself. Both of them were still fully clothed but they grabbed for each other like they were seconds away from coming. They could barely separate long enough to get each other’s clothes off. Charles reached one arm out towards his bedside table and fumbled around for the lube without moving his face away from Erik’s. He found Erik’s hand and shoved the bottle into it, rolling his hips a little bit in an unspoken  _ get on with it _ . 

Erik usually liked to put too much time into the preparation, sometimes making Charles come once just on his fingers and then again on his cock. He wasn’t even thinking about that as he pressed into Charles with two fingers urgently, toeing the line of too much at once. Charles didn’t mind at all, just as desperate for Erik to get inside of him as Erik was. 

Charles pulled on the short hair on the back of Erik’s neck, screwed his eyes shut and heard his breathing become harsher and higher as Erik added a third finger, and then a fourth. 

“I’m good.” He panted, writhing against the bed, “I’m good. I’m good. Come on.” 

Erik didn’t need to be told twice. He stepped away for a second to find a condom and Charles stared at the ceiling, willing his mind not to wander. And then Erik was back, slowly pressing his cock inside of him and it was easy to let go of his thoughts. Charles sighed and shut his eyes and snaked his hands around Erik’s back.

“Charles--”

“Don’t talk.” Charles pleaded, “Don’t. Don’t talk. Please.”

“Okay.” Erik breathed. He leaned down with his elbows on either side of Charles’ head and buried his face into his neck, fucking into him with slow, steady strokes. Charles drowned in the sensation, willing himself to let go,  _ let go, just for a little while _ . 

Erik was kissing Charles’ neck softly, like an afterthought, when he shifted a bit to change his angle and Charles keened high in his throat, unintentionally digging his nails into the skin of Erik’s back. Erik took a shaky breath at the burn of Charles’ fingernails and his hips stuttered forward, pushing Charles further against the headboard. 

“Keep going. Keep going. Just like that.” Charles held on tighter, feeling the solid muscles of Erik’s back rippling as he quickened the pace until he was panting, breathing harsh and warm against the skin of Charles’ neck.

And finally,  _ finally _ he was lost. There was nothing else in Charles’ his mind except Erik, his hands, his cock, his mouth against his skin. Finally there was nothing else. 

 

-

 

Charles rolled over afterwards, flipped over his pillow and pressed his face into the cool pillowcase. Erik had left to clean himself off, but Charles felt too tired, his limbs and eyelids were too heavy. He let his eyes flutter closed and curled up under the duvet. 

As nice as he felt now, though, his headache gone and his body already half asleep, Charles could tell there was something wrong, something wrong in his mind that hadn’t been there before. 

He lied awake in bed for the rest of the night and into the morning before he was able to place what he was feeling, because it had been so long since he’d felt it. 

Shame, for what he’d done. For who he was. The shame that he hadn’t felt in years, all of it came flooding back to him. It filled his body and his mind until he couldn’t breathe. He stared at the wall with burning eyes, scooted his body closer and closer to the edge of the bed (and inadvertently farther and farther away from Erik).

He wasn’t able to fall asleep again. 


	8. the one where charles isn't mad

“Fuck.” Azazel breathed, resting his chin on his hand. Even Angel looked up from her desk to stare, shocked, concerned, at Erik. 

“What is he going to do?” She asked. 

“I don’t know. It’s only been a few days, I don’t think he’s even come to terms with it yet.”

Azazel threw his hands up in the air.

“Well this is bullshit, first of all.” He said. 

“He should just quit.” Angel chimed in. 

Azazel pointed at her like he always did when somebody said something that he thought was a good idea. Erik rolled his eyes.

“You know, we could use someone with that kind of field expertise. We could hire him.”

“We hardly have enough money to keep the three of us on payroll.” Erik said, “Besides, Charles should be in the classroom. He loves it. He’s good at it.” 

Erik sighed. He’d had the same headache for the past three days, ever since he left Charles’ apartment and realized that there was no easy way out of the fucked up situation they were in. Their best--Erik mentally rephrased to “least worst”--options were either humiliation or probably weeks and weeks of lawsuits and headaches. 

“It’s still bullshit.” Azazel grumbled.

“I know.” Erik said. 

More than anything Erik was taken aback by how much Angel and Azazel seemed to care about this, about Charles. It was a reflection on how amazing of a person Charles was, that he so easily became important to everyone he met. 

It wasn’t much, but at the very least Erik realized that Charles wasn’t just getting his support; he would likely be getting the support of everyone he knew. Because nobody seemed to meet Charles without falling in love with him, one way or another. 

Up until the moment, of course, that they found out one of those people in love with Charles was a man, because, for fuck’s sakes, that changed  _ everything _ , didn’t it. 

Erik was thinking about it too much. He needed to step out of the office and take a walk until he felt calm enough to be productive again. 

“Bullshit.” He muttered to himself, shoving his hands into his pockets and walking down onto the sidewalk. The pedicab driver gave him a look and Erik regretted the way he grimaced back at him, inspiring enough fear to make him turn away in half a second. 

He stalked off down the street, no regard for where he was actually headed. 

_ Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.  _

 

-

 

Charles had become absorbed in watching the suspension bridge on the kindergarten playground, because he was certain that one of the planks was slightly looser than the rest. Every time another one of the kids jumped on to it he got so much closer to isolating which plank it was. 

He’d almost figured it out when someone tapped on his shoulder. 

It was Moira. 

“Hey, uh, I think one of your kids is having trouble.” She said quietly. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. The teachers on recess duty had to deal with crying kids and scraped knees and fights over toys almost daily. 

“Which one?” Charles asked, trying to pull himself back into reality. 

“Marie. Over there.” 

Moira pointed him to the edge of the playground where, sure enough, Marie was sitting, isolated, curled up with her knees against her chest. 

Charles felt his chest tighten a little bit. Marie had always been resigned but it was from shyness, not sadness. She had gained enough confidence in the past few months that is was odd seeing her cut off from the group like that. 

“Alright. I’m going in. Keep an eye on Alex for me.” 

“Will do.”

Moira nodded and Charles nodded back before he made his way across the playground. The closer he got, he realized that Marie was crying. He tried to think of what could be wrong that it drove her to cry in privacy rather than cry for someone to address the issue. Usually when that happened it meant that the child was dealing with pain from something outside of school. 

_ I can’t imagine her parents could be causing her even half the pain they’re causing me _ , Charles thought bitterly. He almost immediately regretted the thought.  _ This is about Marie _ , he reminded himself. 

He sat down on the ground next to her, pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his arms over them. Marie looked up at him, her little cheeks blushed and tear-streaked. She sniffed. 

“Are you alright, love? What’s wrong?” He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but anything past a hand on the shoulder was against his training. 

“M-mommy,” her voice trembled as she tried to speak through her sobs, “mommy told me you aren’t going to be my teacher anymore.” 

Charles couldn’t decide if he was more appalled by the fact that Marie’s parents were trying to get him fired or that they were telling their daughter,  _ his student _ , that they were trying to get him fired. As if they expected her to be on  _ their side _ . 

He had to hold himself back from sighing or dropping his face into his hands or otherwise making it obvious that Marie’s parents were ruining his life. 

“Why does she think that?” He asked gently. He knew exactly why. 

“She says you’re a bad person.” 

_ Great. Fucking great. This is how you teach children prejudice before they even know what gay means.  _

Marie sniffed again. She wasn’t actively sobbing like before but the tears still continued to roll down her cheeks. 

Charles couldn’t even think of what to say, but he couldn’t look away either form Marie’s big, sad eyes. He hoped his face wasn’t betraying anything. 

“I don’t think you’re bad.” Marie said again. She looked down at her lap, “It’s all my fault.”

“I’m sure that isn’t true.” 

“It is!” She cried. 

“Marie--”

“I drew the pictures.” Marie rubbed her eyes stubbornly, turned back to Charles and his heart nearly broke again, seeing her in so much pain. “And then mommy got mad at me and said you can’t be my teacher anymore.”

“Pictures of what, love?”

“You. You an-and mister Erik. I told her that you loved each other and she got mad at me.”

“ _ Oh my god. _ ” Charles breathed. He slipped his hand over his face, because  _ that _ was how it happened. Marie’s parents probably didn’t even suspect him and Erik, their heads were so far up their heteronormative asses. But Marie was too young to care about any of that; all she saw was love between two people. 

Charles wanted to vomit. 

“Are you mad at me, Mr. X?”

“No. No of course not.” Charles composed himself. He only had to keep it together for a couple more hours until school got out. Until then he needed to be there for Marie. She needed to think that everything was going to be okay. 

“I don’t want another teacher.”

“I know.” He said, fighting the knot in his throat. He placed his hand on her shoulder, even though he knew it wasn’t enough. She sounded just seconds away from starting to cry again. 

“Listen, you didn’t do anything wrong, okay? No matter what happens, I need you to know that it wasn’t your fault.”

Marie took a shaky breath. 

“Okay.”

“Do you promise?”

“Mmhm.” She held up her hand with her pinky finger out and Charles hooked their fingers together in a promise. 

“Good.” He forced himself to smile and thank god, Marie smiled back. “Do you feel better, now?”

She nodded, rubbed her eyes again. Her face was still a little red but she looked considerably better than before. Seeing her smile again almost made up for how much worse  _ Charles _ felt now that he knew the whole story. 

Moira blew the whistle for everyone to line up not a minute later and Charles stood up to go help. He gave Moira a nod that meant _ it’s handled _ and the two of them shifted their focus to the next task of trying to round up four classes worth of kindergarteners. By the time they got everyone under control the other teachers would be out on the blacktop to lead their students back in. 

Charles just focused on taking even breaths. He wasn’t really doing anything to help. 

“Are you okay, Charles?” She asked quietly, standing next to him again but facing the opposite direction to keep an eye on the children. Charles breathed out a laugh. 

“No. Not really.” He whispered, and his voice shook so much that he wondered if he would even make it a few minutes, let alone a few hours. 

Moira gave him a concerned look, and then glanced past him to the other teachers headed their way. 

“Wait here. Watch the kids.”

Charles turned around and forced smiles at the children, who were too young and too happy to notice that he was probably on the verge of tears. That was the one benefit of teaching small children when Charles had to go through something like this. Even Marie who had just been in tears a second ago because she actually  _ knew _ what was happening was now grinning and laughing and chatting away with her classmates. 

Moira came back and pulled on Charles’ arm. 

“They agreed to double up for reading time. Come on.”

“I can’t just--” 

“ _ Come on. _ ”

Charles reluctantly agreed and left his class in the hands of Mrs. Garcia while Moira led him back inside. She walked quickly towards the kindergarten hallway and he stumbled to keep up.

“Okay.” She breathed, once they were alone in Charles’ classroom. She leaned against the back of the door, watching Charles carefully, like he was about to break. Charles cursed the fact that he could never really hide his emotions from being plainly written across his face. 

Moira took a step forward, resting her hands on his shoulders. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, Charles. You haven’t said hardly anything since last week and now Marie is crying and you look like you’re about to--”

Charles choked. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt tears pooling in the corner of his eyes, tears that had been overdue for days, now, but  _ did they have to happen at a time like this?  _

“It’s just...” He took in a shaky breath that only made it worse. 

Moira pulled him forward into a hug, holding him tight enough that the tears finally spilled over onto his cheeks. He gasped, sobbed, pressed his face into the cotton blouse covering her shoulder. 

“Hey, shhh, it’s okay.” She said, held on tighter, “Let it all out, we’ve got 45 minutes ‘til your kids come back.”

Charles just cried harder. 


	9. the one where everyone else is mad

The cold weather--“cold” being a relative term, of course--finally started to settle around the end of November. Charles found himself going outside a whole lot more, partly because it was finally tolerable to go outside, but mostly because his anxiety had kicked completely into overdrive and he kept finding himself in need of fresh air. He spent every day wondering and worrying and overthinking, and most of all desperately trying to look normal in front of his class. 

He would come home exhausted every night. And then he would lay awake for hours. 

His sleeping schedule devolved from averaging a healthy 6-7 hours a night to 2-3 hours, 4 if he was lucky. But the night before his first “meeting” with the district he didn’t sleep for even a second. 

It wasn’t really a meeting. Charles had guessed (and he was right) just from the district head’s email that it was going to be more of an interrogation, especially based on the fact that they were calling in a substitute teacher so he could take the  _ whole day _ off. 

He was glad for it, because he stepped out of the district office and couldn’t imagine having to face his kids again. The questions they had asked--just the way they all spoke to him, as if he was from a different country, a different planet, even, as if his sexuality meant he needed to be talked down to--made Charles feel disgusting. He needed to take about three showers and maybe spend half of the day in bed before he could even  _ start _ feeling normal again.

Afterwards he went straight to Erik’s office and picked him up without much explanation. But then again, he hadn’t really been talking much lately at all. He still saw Erik every week, multiple times a week, but neither of them had any idea what to say about everything that was going on. Mostly they just sat together and held each other and had sex and fought, sometimes. 

Charles drove down to Zilker park, hoping that the trails along the lake would be empty. He needed to walk, to feel the fresh air against his face for a while. And then he would vent about his  _ meeting _ . 

“What were you doing before I stole you from the office?” Charles asked, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets even though they weren’t really cold. He just didn’t quite know what to do with them. 

“Talking back and forth with the publisher. The manners series is set to release in February.”

Charles smiled up at him, and it felt about as sincere as he could conjure at the moment. 

“That’s fantastic.”

“Yeah. I was happy to leave though.” He leaned closer to Charles as the walked along the trail, side by side. “Happy to see you.”

Charles almost sighed. He looked out at the lake, which really wasn’t spectacular, especially at this time of year when there were no colorful kayaks and stand up paddleboards scattered along the water. 

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Be...more affectionate than you would be. If this weren’t happening.”

“What are you talking about?” Erik stopped for a moment so they could face each other and Charles worried for a second that maybe he was just being paranoid. Regardless, he needed to say it.

“I don’t need you to treat me any different.”

“Charles--I’m not--I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m doing fine, alright?” Charles’ brow furrowed and he looked down at the ground. 

“Okay well now you’re just lying to me. Which is great.”

Charles huffed, starting to walk again, and Erik caught up pretty quickly. 

“Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what the hell you’re telling me to do. Should I stop acting like we’re together? Is that what you want?”

“I want,” he sighed, trying to focus on his feet against the ground and not the cocktail of emotions that were already stirring up inside of him again. “I don’t know, okay, Erik, I just spent three hours across the table from half of the school board while they asked me whatever fucking questions they could pull out of their asses, trying to paint me as a bloody child predator, as if that makes _ any  _ sense. At least they were polite about it. Although personally I don’t think their politeness changed the fact that they’re all going to fire me by the end of the semester. Or...transfer me into some bullshit managerial office job. Banish me to a cubicle like they do with all of the  _ other homosexuals  _ so they don’t have to look at them.”

Erik didn’t say anything, which wasn’t a surprise. Charles could feel him getting angry next to him, and subsequently holding himself back from it. 

“You know--” Charles laughed pitifully, “you know they asked me how old I was when I first had sex with a man. And how old the other man was. And  _ why don’t you go ahead and tell us the full nature of your relationship, just in case that set a precedent in any way for the rest of your relationships _ . And then they sat there and looked at me--they looked at me like they expected me to answer all of that. Like it was a perfectly appropriate question to ask someone.”

They had to stop walking for a second, because Charles was bordering on some form of anxious, sleep-deprived hysteria and Erik could sense it. They stood, side by side but not touching, facing the lake. The boring, almost-empty lake. It shimmered gray and green and blue in the winter sunshine. 

Erik took a deep breath. 

“Tell me you’re taking this to court.” He said, not turning away from the lake, “And I know you don’t want me to say this, but I honestly think you should quit. Especially after hearing that.”

He was right. The logical thing to do would be to quit, instead of desperately trying to hold on to a job where all of his superiors saw his sexual orientation as a valid reason to be gross and disrespectful. But Charles couldn’t just quit. He knew in his heart that he was going to exhaust every option before he even considered quitting. 

“I can’t leave them.” He said, shaking his head. 

“But you’re taking this to court.”

“What good would come out of taking it to court? However intrusive they were today, it would only be worse.”

“At the very worst you become an example for the rest of the city. Show the school system here that this isn’t something we’re going to stand for.”

“And at best?” Charles dared to ask. Erik had probably been daydreaming about Charles’ world-famous court case already. 

“At best,” Erik turned to look at Charles, “things change.”

He reached down to pull Charles’ hand out of his pocket and held it in his own. 

“Erik--”

“What? Are you worried someone you know is going to see us?”

“I mean…” Charles started. He pretended not to notice that Erik’s hand was becoming tighter around his own. 

“And then what will they do?” Erik asked, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a sly sort of smile, “Report you to the district?”

Charles smiled back, slowly. He let go of Erik’s hand, then, but only so he could wrap his arms around Erik’s shoulders and pull him down and kiss him, out in the open for anyone to see. Erik laughed against his mouth and kissed him back, pulled their bodies closer. 

They stopped making out in the middle of the trail  _ eventually _ , but it was hard to find the motivation once Charles realized that there were no real consequences anymore. He was already going through the worst of the worst; Charles could fucking make out with his boyfriend in a public park in broad daylight if he wanted. 

 

-

 

_ > i’m using my vacation days and coming down for christmas _

_ > no arguments _

_ > especially not after that last email you sent me. you need to be hugged for approximately a year and a half. _

 

_ you only have three weeks of vacation days saved up _

 

_ > erik and i can switch off. and your teacher friend. let’s start a club _

 

_ the Hugging Charles Xavier Club: Coming to a City Near You _

 

_ > too long _

_ > the X-Huggers _

 

_ that sounds too much like face huggers _

_ no thanks _

 

_ > we’re still in the planning stage. i’ll come up with a better name. _

 

_ > ok erik just suggested “The X-Men” i like that. sounds dramatic _

 

_ what  _

_ you’re talking to erik _

_ how  _

 

_ > twitter  _

_ > i slid into his dms _

 

_ i don’t know what that means and i don’t think i want to know _

 

_ > ANYWAY _

_ > christmas. i’m coming. get ready. _

 

_ i’ll go buy pop-tarts asap _

 

_ > oh brother,  _

_ > you know me so well _

 

-

 

Charles was stuck waiting outside of Emma’s office for about half an hour, because she was in there with a student and, according to the receptionist, had been for over an hour. So he sat in one of the chairs in the waiting area of the main office, staring at the clock on the wall and trying to put all of his focus into watching the second hand tick away so he wouldn’t have to think about anything else. 

The school receptionist, Jane was her name, kept giving Charles concerned looks. Charles realized after a while that she probably knew exactly why he kept having to meet with Miss Frost and why the district suddenly had an unusual interest in all of his records and why he always showed up to school looking like he hadn’t slept. He wasn’t actually sure how many faculty members knew, but Emma was probably keeping it limited to just herself and Moira and the select few in the main office who’d had to witness the increased attention from the board. 

So Jane definitely knew. At the very least, Charles was relieved that she was watching him with concern and what looked like sympathy instead of, like, disgust. He could name quite a few people in the school who, if he came out that very second, would immediately respond with disgust. 

Emma’s guest walked out with his backpack half-heartedly slung over his shoulder and Charles waited to get up until Jane called in to tell Emma he was outside. 

“She says you can come in.” Jane said, and as much as Charles wanted to resent the sheer amount of pity in her voice and her eyes, he knew that she obviously meant well. He nodded and headed to Emma’s office. 

“Charles, hi. How are you feeling?” Emma asked as he shut the door behind him. She looked up from her computer, and for the first time Charles had ever seen, she seemed completely exhausted. So the tally of people Charles had dragged into this mess was increasing already. 

He skipped the bullshit. 

“Is there a reason I was notified about another background check this morning?” 

Emma dropped the fake smile in a second. 

“You  _ what. _ ”

“So you don’t know about this.”

“No, I don’t. But I should. All of the teachers were checked before being hired--including you--and  _ every time _ it’s supposed to go through me.”

Charles took a deep breath. 

“Fantastic.”

“I can’t believe this.” Emma turned back to her computer, presumably checking all of her inboxes including her spam folders. “I can’t believe they’re doing this.”

“So they’re running a second background check. What are they hoping to gain.”

“Now that they know you’re gay, they know what they’re looking for. Before it was just legal records, criminal activity, things like that, but now,” 

She swiveled around in her chair and the look on her face was some cross between fear and outright anger, another expression Charles had never seen before. It was almost terrifying.

“If there’s a single photo on the internet of you covered in glitter or making out with someone at a pride parade or posing on a beach in a pair of swim trunks, they’re going to find it.”

Charles couldn’t respond. He tried to file through his brain for any memories of posting something openly gay online in his last twenty something years of living and after a few minutes his mind just shorted out on him. He stared back at Emma. 

“I want you to forward me the email you got before you consent to the background check.”

Charles just nodded. Behind whatever was left of Emma’s peaceful, welcoming facade Charles could tell she was seething. If he didn’t know that she was angry solely in his defense he would have been running far and fast in the opposite direction. 

“I’m going to talk to the super about this. It might put the investigation on hold for a few days.”

“Alright.”

She was talking about a million miles an hour, resting her face in her hands and glaring down at the surface of her desk so she wouldn’t glare at Charles. 

“Everything  _ should _ be going through me. So let me know if they send you anything else. I’ll tell the board to postpone their next meeting with you.”

“Wait, um, actually,” 

Charles couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t do  _ this _ anymore, sitting back and just accepting whatever inappropriate actions were being taken in this clusterfuck of an investigation. 

“What is it, Charles?”

“Instead of telling them to postpone the meeting can you…” Charles took a deep breath. If he did this, everything would become infinitely more complicated and infinitely more of a big deal. There was really no turning back. He floundered around for a second before he realized he had stopped talking mid-sentence. 

“Can I what.” Emma asked impatiently, and there was a flash of regret across her face for lashing out even the littlest bit at Charles. But he couldn’t blame her. Lately he’d found that he couldn’t blame anyone for how they were reacting to this, Moira’s anxiety that more or less mimicked his own, Erik and Emma’s poorly-concealed anger, everyone else’s concern, they all dealt with it differently. 

And then there was Marie, who, regardless of Charles’ insistence, seemed to understand that it was all because of something she’d done. But that was it. Everything else was still a mystery to her, and may always be. 

Charles had felt oddly responsible for keeping everything and everyone under control, even though he was slowly and surely losing every ounce of control in his life. He gave himself a few more seconds to live that impossible lie, and then he made his final decision to pull everyone further into the mess that they were all in. 

He locked eyes with Emma again and nodded. 

“Tell them that I’m getting a lawyer.”


	10. the one where raven makes everything better

The airport was crowded with people coming and going for the holidays. Charles and Erik stood at the baggage claim for Raven’s flight, watching the escalators and trying to see who could spot her first. Erik was holding two flower bouquets and Charles was holding another one, because he hadn’t been able to decide on which flowers to get her that morning so he just bought all three of the bouquets he was trying to choose between. That in itself was a pretty accurate summary of how Charles was doing.

Erik was all but living at Charles’ apartment now, because they’d come home from meeting with his lawyer (Erik for the first time, Charles for the third) and Erik decided that he was going to try his best to not leave Charles’ side for the next few months. And possibly for the next forever. 

As much as he wanted to talk about it so they had a clear plan of action, an agenda, that was the opposite of what Charles wanted. Charles was trying his best to have his holiday break be a break from both the school year and from having to live with the reality of what had happened during the school year. He was pointedly  _ not _ thinking about how they were going to appeal come January, didn’t schedule another meeting until after New Year’s, and effectively put everything on hold. If Erik was being honest, it was driving him mad. 

But better for him to be mad than Charles, really. 

“Found her. There in the blue coat.” Erik pointed up at the escalators at Raven. 

“What? How did you spot her so quickly?”

“We follow each other on Twitter. She posts a lot of selfies.”

“You two make me feel like such an old man.”

Erik laughed and finally Raven saw them from where she was on the escalator. She started waving at them excitedly and Charles waved back and smiled, really smiled, for the first time in a very long time. 

-

“You should have a party.” Raven said. She was pushing their shopping cart through Central Market, Charles and Erik trailing behind her. Erik just looked on in horror as she threw things into the cart left and right. It was obvious that  _ you should have a party _ really just meant  _ I’ve already decided for you and you are having a party _ . 

“I don’t know if I’m in the best shape for hosting a party.” Charles said. He made the three of them stop for a minute so he could stare at the wall of organic chocolates. 

“Well you’ve got me. I’m always in party-hosting shape.” She glanced at Erik, “I don’t know about this guy.”

“I don’t host parties.” Erik said. “Especially not Christmas parties.”

Charles snorted at that. 

“Wait, aren’t you Jewish?”

Erik nodded and Raven looked like she was about to ask about five more questions. 

“And before you ask, Hanukkah is already over, and Charles already went overboard trying to celebrate it with me.”

“I did not.” Charles made a look like he was offended, like he was under the impression that the amount of money he spent on people was perfectly normal. 

“You did.” 

“You always do.” Raven added

Before Charles could argue any more on the matter of whether or not he always went overboard with gift giving (which, Erik could already see the end of that discussion, he  _ did _ ) they bumped carts with someone in the wine section and all three of them skidded to a halt. 

“Well, well, well.” Erik whipped his head around when he heard Azazel, because apparently out of all people to bump carts with in the grocery store it  _ had _ to be this asshole. 

“Never did I think there would come a day when I saw Erik Lehnsherr buying organic.”

Erik took a deep breath, because he had just enough dignity left not to sigh as loud as he wanted to. Azazel grinned. From this point the only items Erik could identify in his cart were bread and vodka. 

When Azazel’s gaze trailed from him to Charles his smile waned into something a little more genuine.

“I heard you’re going to court.” He said, and Charles shifted uncomfortably. Azazel wasn’t aware, obviously, but that was high on the list of topics Charles was trying to avoid in order to keep his sanity during the break. No, it was at the top of the list. It was really the only item on the list. 

“I am.” Charles finally said.

“I think that’s really fucking cool.” Azazel said, and regardless of how idiotic his words were his face looked genuine. Erik could tell then how important it was to everyone that Charles didn’t feel like he was going at it alone. 

He left it at that, though, thank god, and the next person he talked to was Raven. Erik had witnessed Azazel flirt terribly with countless innocent women of the greater Austin area, so he expected about as much, but something in the way Azazel introduced himself made Erik think that he almost looked a little nervous. 

Erik would admit that Raven was beautiful, both classically, with her blonde hair and big eyes, but also in her own way once you factored in her personality. If he was straight and three years younger, maybe, he’d probably be intimidated. 

“I’m Raven. Charles’ younger sister.” Raven said, leaning over the cart so she could hold her hand out. Azazel practically jumped at the chance to shake her hand. 

“Raven.” Azazel repeated, like he was learning a new word altogether. He pointed to himself. “Azazel.”

“Just Azazel?”

_ Here we go again _ , Erik thought. He exchanged a look with Charles and tried to make it clear with his eyes that he did not like the direction this was going. Charles nodded in agreement. 

“Just Azazel these days.” He smirked at the opportunity to say one of his signature lines, “My last name is too long and too Russian so I dropped it.”

“How do you know Erik?”

“I’m his boss.”

Erik immediately cut in.

“No he isn’t.”

Azazel didn’t look away from Raven and mouthed the words  _ I’m his boss _ and Raven laughed. 

“Well it’s been great seeing you, Azazel, but we need to go get some wine now.” Erik took hold of the cart and backed them up until they could turn into the next aisle. Raven smiled and waved at Azazel as they left and Azazel waved back, seemingly frozen in place. 

Erik scanned wine labels and hoped to god that Azazel wasn’t going to follow them.

“He’s invited to the party.” Raven suddenly said.

Both Charles and Erik looked up, Charles out of surprise that she was still hell-bent on this party and Erik out of disgust at the idea of inviting  _ Azazel _ . 

“What? No. Absolutely not.” Erik placed a few bottles of red wine into the cart. 

Raven definitely mistook the wine for party supplies. 

“He’s invited.”

 

-

 

Raven had sat Charles and Erik down to watch Rent, saying something about it being a holiday tradition. Erik looked to Charles for him to confirm this and he shrugged. He could already tell that Charles was just going to go along with whatever Raven came up with. 

Erik didn’t really mind, though, because Charles was already doing better with Raven around. He was still a little quieter than usual, but he wasn’t trying to cover it up with layers and layers of false happiness. 

Erik liked Raven already. Not just because she made Charles happy, but also because she was just as hilarious in real life as she was online. He usually didn’t care for actors, for their tendency to act offstage as well as on, meticulously crafting their personalities to try and gain a certain appeal, but she wasn’t like that at all. 

Raven was genuine and funny and interesting. Erik liked her. 

The three of them piled on Charles’ couch, Erik in the middle with Charles’ legs across his lap and Raven leaning against his side casually, like they were already good friends. Halfway through Rent--which wasn’t bad, Erik decided--Raven fell right asleep, and then she woke up during the second to last number and freaked out, insisting that they rewind back to the parts she missed. Charles groaned.

“I’m not watching Angel die again. My heart can’t take it.”

“Well your heart can get up and leave, then. I’m rewinding it.” 

Charles stood up and left the couch, stretching his arms above his head and grumbling about something and Raven reached for the remote. Erik figured he wouldn’t die if he watched the second half of Rent again, so he stayed. He was about to move now that there was more room, but Raven returned her head to his shoulder and pressed play. 

“Your shoulder is nice.”

“Just the one?”

“I’ve only experienced the one shoulder. I bet the other shoulder is nice too though.” She sighed and leaned further against Erik, and it was pretty obvious she was going to fall asleep again about two songs from now. 

And she did. She made it a little longer the second time, but after a while she was pressed heavily against Erik’s side, fast asleep. Erik paused the movie. He looked down at Raven, trying to figure out the least disruptive way to get up from the couch. 

With the movie stopped, though, he could suddenly hear Charles calling his name from somewhere in the apartment and Erik’s main goal became speed rather than stealth. He pushed Raven gently towards the back of the couch until her weight was off of him and went to find Charles. 

Charles turned out to be in the bathroom, in the bathtub, and his head and shoulders were the only body parts visible above a sea of bath foam. Erik almost laughed. Charles must have been able to see it on his face because he squinted up at him, but it was hard for him to look even remotely malicious when he was literally taking a  _ bubble bath _ . 

Finally Erik let out a bark of laughter and leaned against the doorway. 

“Alright, come on. Out with it.” Charles said, crossing his arms over his chest and disrupting the layers of bubbles that seemed to be  _ inches deep _ . 

“Are you honestly taking a bubble bath.” 

Erik tried to breathe, he really did. He laughed again. 

“I’m desperate. I read that this helps. And I didn’t call you in here so you could laugh at me.” 

Erik smiled down at his poor stressed boyfriend, sitting in the bathtub and  _ relaxing as hard as he could _ . 

“What  _ did _ you call me in here for?”

“So you could bring me a glass of wine.”

“Oh my god, Charles.”

“What.”

Erik shook his head, and he had seen Charles covered in craft supplies and talking excitedly to five year olds and discussing the literary merit of the Dr. Seuss books but  _ this _ , this was new. 

“I didn’t know you had fallen so far into the cult of suburban motherhood.” He said, slipping his hand over his mouth to try and keep down his amusement. Charles glared at him. 

“Okay, okay, I’m going.” Erik held his hands up in surrender, “I’ll get you some wine.”

“ _ Thank you! _ ” Charles called after him. 

Raven was still asleep on the couch as Erik made his way to the kitchen. He thought about waking her, but figured that he’d already given Charles a hard enough time on his own. He poured two glasses of the red wine they’d just bought from Central Market, breathing out the rest of his laughter, and went back into the bathroom. 

“You know,” Charles started, reaching out so Erik could hand him a glass. Erik locked the door and leaned against the bathroom counter. “from what I’ve seen, being a suburban mom is quite a lifestyle.”

“Tell me.” Erik said. He took a sip of his wine and looked at Charles, who was soapy and flushed and frustrated and adorable. 

“Less than half of them have actual jobs. They just stay at home all day and write for their parenting blogs and create pinterest boards and meet their friends for yoga.”

“And drink wine and take bubble baths.” Erik added. 

“ _ And _ they drink wine and take bubble baths. I’m really starting to see the appeal.”

Charles watched Erik over his glass, and then he reached out his other hand. 

“Hand me your glass.”

Erik opened his mouth to say  _ way to pace yourself, there, Charles _ , but Charles spoke again. 

“Hand me your glass so you can get in with me. We’ll be suburban moms together.”

Erik rolled his eyes but obeyed anyway. He passed his glass to Charles and stripped his clothes off while Charles unapologetically watched him from the bathtub. He was quite a sight himself, too, holding two glasses of wine and covered in bubbles and blushing from a combination of hot water and attraction. 

And then Erik was faced with the task of actually trying to get in the tub.

It had been a bit optimistic of Charles to expect both of them to fit comfortably inside of one bathtub, especially considering that Erik’s legs alone were longer than the tub’s length. They had to sit haphazardly tangled together like puzzle pieces from opposite ends of the puzzle. Not even from the same puzzle. Like two pieces from different puzzles. 

“I think this could potentially be sexy if my bathtub was about twice as large.” Charles observed. 

He tried to lean his back against Erik’s chest but Erik’s legs were _ really  _ becoming an issue, so he lifted one of them and pushed it out to hang from the edge of the tub. That left a manageable space for Charles to extend his legs a little more, pressing his feet against the opposite end. Erik scooted as far as he could against the wall of the bathtub and finally neither of them was in pain or at risk of slipping, although there was definitely some soap that got in the wine during all of their moving around. Or some wine that spilled into the bath. Or both. 

Both of them had to laugh at how much Charles’ plan was not working out but they stayed in there anyway. Charles relaxed against Erik, drank more of his wine. Erik had to admit that even though he was far from comfortable in the tiny bathtub, the hot water was nice and Charles was even nicer. 

He clinked their glasses together.

“To the suburban moms.” Charles said.

“They might be onto something.” Erik agreed, and he took the opportunity while Charles was throwing his head back in laughter to plant kisses along the side of his neck. 


	11. the one where erik is a tired drunk

Charles should have known that Raven was being completely serious when she said that they were going to have a party. He grew up with her, for christ’s sake, he knew that when she really set her mind to something, it got done. 

Somehow he didn’t expect this to be one of those things.

He also didn’t expect her to manage to get in contact with all of his friends. Still, she honored his one request that they keep it small, because while their childhood was full of big, expensive parties in elite social circles, it ended with Raven loving that sort of scene and Charles trying desperately to get out of it. Even though it was still in his blood to keep up appearances in crowds, suck up to old rich people and drink enough champagne that he didn’t have to fake  _ all _ of his smiles, he really didn’t want to anymore. 

Charles woke up one morning a few days before Christmas, savoring the feeling of having no reason to get out of bed. He could hear Raven milling around the apartment, and it took him about two seconds to process that today must be the day of her party. His party, technically, but really it was Raven’s. 

He turned over in bed and it looked like Erik was having the same line of thought. 

“She’s throwing that party today isn’t she.” Erik said, voice rough from sleep. 

“I’m afraid so.”

Erik groaned, rubbing his eyes. 

“We’re doomed.”

“Well, we are once we get out of bed.”

“Oh really?” Erik opened his eyes again and looked at Charles with the most blatant bedroom eyes Charles had ever seen, and Charles would have jumped him then and there if his sister wasn’t awake in the other room. 

“Really.” Charles said, scooted closer to Erik, tangled their legs together. “She’s not going to make us help with her party as long as we’re in here.”

“We better stay in here all day, then.” Erik’s mouth twitched upwards a little, and Charles reached forward and traced the almost-smile on his lips. Erik’s arm settled around Charles’ waist. 

It was quiet then, just the two of them. Charles thought that maybe Raven had left. 

And then his bedroom door flew open. 

“NICE TRY, YOU TWO.” Raven was in the doorway, light flooding in from behind her and straight into Charles’ eyes. He groaned and tried to hold his hand up to block the light. 

“Get your asses up. We’re getting a tree.”

“We’re doomed.” Erik whispered, quiet enough for only Charles to hear this time. 

 

-

 

The funniest part of that day, aside from Erik getting tangled up to his elbows in Christmas tree lights, was the fact that out of all or their guests, Moira and Emma and Angel and--a long sigh from Erik upon his arrival--Azazel, every one of them brought alcohol to the party. Charles wondered if he really looked like he was doing so poorly that all four of them had that same thought. He accepted the gifts anyway, especially the expensive bottle of Moscato that Emma brought (which he immediately went and hid somewhere in the kitchen).

The energy in the house was at a comfortable level for most of the night. Raven spent the first half of the party mixing drinks, and Azazel spent the first half tasing her mixed drinks and, Charles worried, possibly getting alcohol poisoning. 

Angel and Emma spent almost the entire party on the couch, absorbed in a conversation about the American school system. While Emma had years of experience in all levels of school faculty, Angel had actually done a lot of research all over North and South America on how schools work. Both of them looked like they were having a great time. Charles tried to join them at some point, gave up, and went back to Moira and Erik who were talking casually (but mostly just standing back and watching Azazel make a fool of himself). 

“Do you think he’ll ask her out on a date?” Charles asked, moving to stand in between the two of them. 

“When he’s drunk enough.” Moira took a sip of the drink Raven had made her, which was a startling shade of red.

“Normally I would say yes, but based on what I’m witnessing here I think I’ve come to a new conclusion.” Erik mused, and he probably knew what he was talking about the most out of the three of them. “He won’t ask her out. And then she’ll go back to San Francisco and he’s going to bitch about  _ missed opportunities _ for the next two months.” 

“Hmm.” Charles watched as Azazel and Raven laughed together in the kitchen. He’d seen Raven flirt with men before, but he didn’t see very much flirting coming from her end tonight. Probably because  _ she  _ knew she’d be going back to San Francisco in two weeks, and Azazel didn’t. 

Azazel couldn’t be that old, even though he seemed to have the resume of a man about to retire. His hair was a shiny, solid black and slicked back from his forehead, with a matching goatee that looked like it took a lot of dedication to keep groomed. Because of that he usually had a very intimidating air about him that was only offset once he opened his mouth. But in front of Raven, he really wasn’t the least bit scary. 

His face was now flushed a very drunken shade of red and his eyes were wide and he was staring at Raven like she was an angel and Charles laughed at the way every man seemed to fall in love with Raven in the same, bumbling, embarrassing fashion. 

“This happens all the time I bet.” Erik said. 

“All the time.”

Eventually they all congregated around the living area, everyone pleasantly buzzed and eating from the myriad of cookie tins spread out on the coffee table. Raven dug around in Charles’ closet until she reemerged with the portable keyboard she’d bought for his apartment (not because Charles still played, but because Raven still tried to get him to play every time she visited). 

She sat on the floor and set it on her lap and started playing, first Christmas music and then just music, whatever melodies came out of her fingers. 

Erik let his head fall to rest on the back of the couch and Charles was close to doing the same, letting himself drift off a little bit, until Emma moved to sit down beside him and dropped a neatly-wrapped gift into his lap. 

“Oh, I haven’t got your present yet.” Charles said, setting down his champagne so he could pick it up. It was thin and rectangular. Maybe a book. Or a picture frame. 

“Don’t worry, sugar. It isn’t really from me.”

Charles raised an eyebrow at her, but started to unwrap it anyway. Erik sat up sleepily at the noise, let his head rest against Charles’ so he could watch the reveal. Charles and Erik had drank together before, but apparently never this much, because good god, Erik was one of those tired drunks, and it was one of the cutest things Charles had seen. 

He finally got the wrapping off and it  _ was  _ a picture frame, or the back of one, anyway. 

“Turn it over.” Erik drawled. 

Charles flipped over the frame and it was a drawing. He recognized the drawing style in an instant, knowing it well after a full semester. 

“Marie did this.” He said, and Emma nodded. 

“This is it” Emma explained, gesturing at the picture. “I expected it to be more offensive, seeing as this is the artwork that got us all into this mess.”

The drawing wasn’t offensive at all. It was actually completely adorable. After a minute Charles could make out what was going on. It was him and Erik, his defining features being a mess of floppy brown hair and a red smile and Erik’s his square jaw and the black turtleneck he’d worn to his author visit. They were holding hands, or at least, Charles thought that was the goal in the way she’d drawn their arms colliding into one. Surrounding the two of them was a sea of little red and pink hearts. 

“Hang that in the Met.” Erik mumbled, head settling heavy onto Charles’ shoulder. 

“I figured you might want it. If you don’t, I understand.” Emma sounded like she maybe hadn’t thought it through until now, that Charles might not want to see the artwork that was getting him fired. 

“No, no. I love it.” Charles smiled, rested his head against Erik’s and held the picture up so he could keep looking at it. “I’m keeping it. Forever.”

Erik exhaled in a laugh and nuzzled his face further into Charles’ shoulder. Emma just watched the two of them fondly, and Charles held the frame in his hands, mouthed  _ thank you _ to her as Erik inevitably started to fall asleep.

 

-

 

Azazel got pretty fucking drunk. He got drunk and he did countless idiotic things in front of Charles’ amazing and gorgeous sister Raven, which he would probably be regretting in the morning along with the rest of his hangover. 

But Angel at least knew that the first part was going to happen, which was why she had driven Azazel all the way to Charles’ apartment in the first place, and drank almost nothing during the party, knowing full well she would be designated to drive him back at the end of the night. 

He was slouched in the passenger seat, flipping through radio stations impatiently until he finally, for some reason, settled on the _ worst  _ 24-hour Christmas music station in the city. 

Angel sighed. She kept driving anyway. She’d known Azazel long enough to know that there was no point in trying to reason with him while he was drunk. The least painful way to deal with him was to just let him do his thing, even if his thing that night was Alvin and the Chipmunks and their holiday classic  _ Christmas Don’t Be Late _ . 

They were about halfway to downtown when he finally turned the music down, and Angel nearly cried in relief when her ears were finally free of  _ Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer _ . 

“Hey,” he said, sounding a fraction more sober than when they got in the car earlier, “outside of the teachers and faculty, what does it take to keep a school running?”

Angel glanced at him. He was tracing circles against the car window with his index finger, probably because it was finally cold enough outside that the windows fogged up from the car heater. He looked back at her and was apparently being completely serious. 

“Like an elementary school. Like Juniper.” He added. 

“Oh, uh…” Angel shrugged, “Ok. I guess utilities, like electricians and plumbers and contractors, for whenever they need construction done. And repairmen for any appliances they use on campus. They probably call in IT people if the on-campus tech can’t handle the issue. And a lot of schools don’t hire cafeteria staff directly, so you could technically count them as staff of whatever food provider the school works with. Groundskeeping. Crossing guards. After-school daycare employees. Most of these types of workers don’t have any long-term contracts with the school.”

“But the school would go to shit if all of those people suddenly weren’t willing to work there.”

“Definitely. Schools like Juniper have been around for decades, so the district’s probably got favorites for all of those jobs.”

“Huh.” Azazel pressed his face against the cool window. 

“Why are you suddenly interested in school management?”

“It’s nothing.” He said, tired, “Well, not nothing.”

“What?”

“I think I have an idea. And I’m going to tell you and you need to remember it, because I’m drunk so I might forget it tomorrow. But it’s a damn good idea.”

“Are you sure you don’t just think it’s good because you’re drunk?”

“Don’t worry. It’s good. It’s really good.”


	12. the one where moira is definitely plotting something

Just like before their first day of school in September, Moira and Charles spent the morning before class sitting together in Charles’ room. The only difference was that neither of them were particularly nervous. Moira had, of course, done this lots of times, and Charles--Charles had other shit to worry about than whether or not Alex was going to start off the spring semester in a fighting mood. 

“Hey, since you might be going public with this court thing, are you okay with the rest of the faculty knowing that you’re bi?”

Charles thought for a minute. He realized that it might be good for Moira to be able to give people a straight answer, because their fellow teachers would inevitably come to her with questions about why Charles kept going off campus and why he looked like shit all the time. Especially since they all thought he and Moira were dating. 

“Sure.” He finally said, finally gave up, really. There was no point keeping it a secret anymore. 

_ What will they do? Report me to the district? _

“Okay. I just wanted to know if you’re fine with me telling people, in case it ever comes up.”

“Honestly, Moira,” Charles leaned back in the tiny kid’s chair, “you could hold an assembly and announce it to everyone if you want. I’m past the point of caring what these people think of me.”

Moira nodded, smiling a little bit like she was amused, or like she had just gotten an idea, or perhaps a combination of both. 

 

-

 

Moira had run her plan past Emma just to make sure there were no HR violations in it, and while Emma was only half-listening, giving most of her focus to the angry but politely-worded emails she was writing almost daily on Charles’ behalf, she gave her the O.K. Moira figured that was good enough, and even if it wasn’t, she was willing to take whatever disciplinary action that came out of it once this whole mess was over. 

She sent out an email to all of the full-time faculty members, to all of the teachers and the main office staff and the librarians and even the janitors. They were all instructed to meet in the cafeteria after school on Friday, and Moira went ahead and threw Emma under the bus by making it sound like she was delivering orders from the principal rather than giving orders herself. 

Emma and Charles would be out on Friday, anyway. So Moira knew she had to do this now, or it would never work. 

The hallways were empty when she finally left her classroom for the day and made her way to the cafeteria, and while she was expecting a small but manageable turnout there, she was surprised to find that nearly everyone had shown up. She stopped a few feet before the entrance, smiled at how much Charles would _ not _ have gone along with this idea had he been involved. Even Emma, if she was paying attention, would have written it off as too optimistic. 

But Moira knew Charles. She knew how people felt about him, how people cared about him even if they didn’t know him well. It was only his first year but Moira had seen how gifted he was as a teacher, how much the school had changed for the better since he arrived. 

It was optimistic, sure, and Moira knew she wasn’t going to be able to get everyone in the school on board, but she still had to try. She had to do this, not just for Charles, but for the whole school, because there was so much more at stake for Juniper now than just an employee. 

Moira took a deep breath and pushed open the cafeteria doors, catching the attention of the entire crowd of teachers and faculty who were all waiting to find out the real reason she’d called them in. 

She walked up onto the stage just to make sure everyone could see and hear her, and once they were all looking, she started talking. 

“It’s about Charles.”

 

-

 

“Okay, here’s the thing.” Charles’ Civil Rights Attorney was a man named Janos Quested, who had an incredible record and an overflowing cache of good references online, had apparently spent the entire winter break actually working on Charles’ case. 

It made Charles feel guilty, not just because he’d done nothing over the break, but because Janos now looked incredibly tired. When they had first met, he was cool and collected, with his gray suits and his almost-shoulder length hair that somehow managed to look professional. But now he was tired. Everyone in Charles’ life was tired.

“This case should be  _ such _ an easy win.”

“Should be?” Erik repeated, and he’d been coming to every meeting with Charles since December, not because he was exactly needed, but because Charles knew that it made him feel better to be in the loop. Most of his time was spent sitting next to Charles in Janos’ office and occasionally interjecting in his best  _ I’m trying not to sound as frustrated as I am _ voice. 

“If we were filing a Civil Rights Violation against a somebody reasonable, who had maybe an ounce of human decency, say, if they just  _ didn’t know _ they were violating your rights and were acting out of ignorance, you would win. Easy. You would be able to settle this in mediation, probably. We wouldn’t have to file a suit.” 

Charles liked the way Janos talked, without any unnecessary flowery legal-sounding language. Especially after days and days of the people of the school board always sounding so  _ polite _ that he couldn’t explicitly point out that they were treating him poorly, he liked the way Janos just told him the truth. 

“Does that mean we’re going to have to file the lawsuit?” Emma asked, and she had come along to this one, too, at Janos’ request. Both of them had left the school the second the bell rang. 

“That’s what I think you should do, but...”

Janos looked back to Charles, not with sympathy, but with respect, and Charles didn’t even know how badly he’d been wanting someone to look at him like that.

“It’s your decision. Mediation is cheap and it won’t go public. But the people you’re up against...they’re dead set in their beliefs. I wouldn’t expect to be able to reason with them on any sort of level. Your best bet is to skip it altogether and file a lawsuit so the decision will be in the hands of a judge. Regardless of the judge’s personal beliefs, they’ll have to adhere to the anti-discrimination laws here.”

Charles nodded. He could feel Erik and Emma both looking at him, probably thinking different things. Erik would want to file the suit, of course he would. He probably wanted to sue them for as much as they were worth, cause them as much pain as they’d caused Charles and more. With Emma, though, Charles wasn’t sure. It was in the school’s best interest to at least  _ try _ to solve the issue through mediation, so they could keep any arising issues to a minimum, preserve the dignity of the school and the district.

As much as Charles agreed with Emma, with keeping the school and its students out of the spotlight, he didn’t give a flying fuck about the dignity of the district. 

He glanced at both of them, briefly, at their futile attempts to not look like they were trying to send thoughts into Charles’ mind. And then he turned back to Janos. 

“I want to file the suit.”

“Alright.” Janos smiled a little bit. “Let’s go to court.”

“Let’s go to court.” Charles repeated. And Erik was watching him, biting his lower lip to keep from grinning, with this little glint in his eye like he was ready to raise hell. 


	13. the one where it'll be fine

The lawsuit was filed. There was a judge assigned to his case, twelve jurors randomly selected from all around the city. He was officially suing his own school district, which was, objectively, a really  _ really  _ bad idea. But Erik was right. Even if he lost, Charles needed to stand up against what had happened to him, what had happened to people like him, what was still happening to people like him. 

Charles decided to take the week off, even though Janos said it should only take a few days. Technically, Janos said it should only take one or two days, but he told Charles to count on the school board continuing to make things difficult. So Charles took the whole week. He figured that the nerves rushing through him alone would make him unfit to teach, anyway. 

At the moment though, his anxiety had dulled to a manageable level, considering he was living with it every day like an unwelcome house guest. But he’d just woken up in Erik’s bed and had sex for the third time that weekend, and it was difficult to let the stress take over his body when he was leaning against the headboard, Erik’s head resting on his chest while he ran lazy fingers through his hair. 

“Hey.” Erik said, sounding like he was halfway to falling back asleep. 

“Hey.” Charles smiled, continued combing through the soft hair at the nape of Erik’s neck. Erik pushed himself to sit up a little, leaning on his elbow. He looked up at Charles, and Charles wanted to roll his eyes at how serious his expression had become. 

“I know i don’t say this often, but,”

“Are you about to tell me you love me.”

“Damn it Charles, do you always have to ruin a moment like that.” Erik flopped onto his back next to Charles, giving up already. Charles couldn’t help it, he was still a little wired from stress, and giving Erik a hard time was a pretty fun way to distract himself from all of it. 

Finally he rolled over on top of Erik,  naturally, like they belonged together like that. He leaned down to kiss the tip of Erik’s nose and Erik let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Alright. Okay. Go ahead. I’m listening. I’m ready for the moment.”

Erik rolled his eyes. 

“I lo--”

“You know, actions speak louder than words, Erik.”

“Oh my  _ god _ .”

Erik pushed Charles off of him and Charles just laughed, sat up in bed and stretched his arms above his head. He looked back at Erik, who was still lying on his back, and waited for him to say it again, ready to listen for real this time. Erik squinted at him. 

“I changed my mind,” Erik said flatly, “fuck you.”

“Already? It’s hardly been 10 minutes, darling, we’re not teenagers anymore.”

Erik pulled the pillow out from under his head and hit Charles with it, which only made Charles erupt with laughter again. Erik slung an arm over his face to hide that he was laughing, too. 

“How about this action: you make me breakfast.” 

“If I make breakfast, then will you feel loved?” Erik lifted his arm a little bit to glance at him. 

“If you make me breakfast, Erik, I promise I will feel  _ very _ loved”

“Anything for you, dear.” Erik said flatly, like he always did, like it was a joke. Charles was sure he was still going to make him breakfast anyway. 

He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Charles stared at him, or, more specifically, at his body, the muscles in his back, the mess of his hair that Charles was more than half responsible for, and finally his face as he turned back and pretended to glare. Charles loved Erik. He  _ loved _ Erik. And Erik loved him. And it was going to be okay. 

Charles lied back down, curled into the mess of sheets on Erik’s bed. It was going to be okay. 

 

-

 

“This is going to be fine, right? I’m not making things worse by being here, am I?”

Janos raised his eyebrows, looked at Charles, and then at Erik, and Erik guessed that he must have been relatively new to Charles’ coping methods. Especially the one where he got unnecessarily wound up, because sometimes he felt like feeling too much was better than not feeling enough. Erik shrugged. 

“Uh, right. I don’t think there’s a way you could make this _worse_ , Charles.”

_ Well, that was definitely not the right thing to say. _

Erik watched as Charles’ face twitched with poorly concealed anxiety. 

Erik liked Charles’ attorney alright, because he was genuine and good at his job, but he seemed to be nearly impossible to read. And sometimes he was too genuine, bordering on flippant. And Erik knew from experience that being flippant didn’t always help. 

He could tell at this point that Charles wouldn’t appreciate being touched, not here, while they waited outside of the courtroom. As much as he wanted to touch Charles, to wrap his arms around him, it wasn’t what Charles needed. So he waited until Charles inevitably caught eyes with Erik, shifting from one foot to another, floundering in panic, and Erik didn’t let himself look as worried as he felt. He smirked at Charles, tried to be steady for Charles to emotionally latch onto. 

“It’ll be fine.” He said, and Charles just stared back at him, clearly focused on breathing in and out. Erik leaned closer so only Charles would hear, and whispered,  

“You complain too much.” 

“Shut up.” Charles snorted, and there was a hint of a smile there, below all of the stress. Erik hoped he had done the right thing. And he especially hoped that  _ It’ll be fine _ wasn’t a complete lie. 

 

-

 

_ > call me _

_ > i want to hear your voice when you talk about how it went in court so i know you aren’t lying _

 

_ okay _

_ give me a second _

 

-

 

Charles dialed Raven’s number. After court he and Erik got in the car and just drove for a while, without any particular destination, before they finally decided to stop somewhere for dinner. It was a typical downtown Tex-Mex joint, with outdoor seating that Charles requested just for the quiet, even though he had started to shiver against the wind. 

Court hadn’t been bad, not at all. It went much better than Charles had expected, seeing as his expectations were barely higher than having slurs thrown at him or maybe being picketed by Westboro Baptist Church. 

Needless to say, neither of those things happened. Representatives from the school board, including the superintendent and deputy superintendent, were all called into court, and none of them looked particularly happy to be taken out of work for it. 

It felt a little just, if Charles was being honest. He had to stop himself from looking smug as the hours ticked by and all of the people who had made his life hell looked like they had started to regret all of their choices leading up to this point. 

Angel and Azazel had shown up as moral support, because their schedules were flexible enough for them to ditch almost an entire day just to watch court proceedings. The television shows were wrong, by the way, because it got pretty damn boring in there. 

“Hi! How are you? How did it go?” Raven’s voice was loud enough coming through the line that Charles had to hold the phone a few inches from his face. 

“It went okay. Hold on--I’m putting you on speaker real quick.” He said, and held the phone out in between him and Erik. 

“Why? Is Erik there?”

“Hi Raven.” 

“There’s my boy.” Raven said, and Charles looked over at Erik, taken aback and almost offended, because when the hell did Erik become  _ Raven’s boy _ . Erik snorted. 

“Was he at court with you?”

“Yeah. He had to testify that we never did anything inappropriate on school grounds.”

“Well did you?”

“Unfortunately not.” Erik cut in, quirked his eyebrows at Charles. 

“Gross, guys.”

“It was important. Now there’s no support for any allegations of either of us being sex offenders.”

“I can’t believe the judge even considered that theory for a second.” She sighed, “I mean, it takes one look at you to know that you’ve never offended anyone in your life.”

“Thanks.” Charles deadpanned. 

“Erik, on the other hand--”

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding. You may look like a creepy shark man but on the inside you’re even more of a dork than Charles is.”

Both Erik and Charles just blinked at each other, caught between being amused and annoyed and endeared. The space between those feelings seemed to be the entire plane of Raven’s existence. 

“So court went okay?”

“It did.” Charles answered. 

“Good. My friends need some good news.”

Erik looked confused. Even though the two of them were  _ buddies _ now, that must have been the one thing Raven left out. Charles let out a sigh. 

“Are you  _ still _ telling them stories about me?”

“Oh yeah.” Raven said, sounding smug, “There are more people following the story of you and Erik than you’d ever imagine.”

 

-

 

Even though it wasn’t really a requirement, Charles still stopped by the school every morning on his way downtown. Mostly he just did some housekeeping to stay sane, making sure his classroom was in order and had all of the materials for that day and leaving notes for his substitute teacher. 

As much as his job had been killing him for the past few months, he realized--sitting at his desk and trying to fit as much writing as he could onto one post-it note--that he really did miss it. He didn’t want to go back to the stale air of the courthouse and continue to debate over whether or not his rights were being violated anymore; he just wanted to teach. 

Charles ended up writing about three post-its to the sub. He stuck them in a neat line on the desk and stood up, certain that if he stayed a minute longer in his classroom he wouldn’t be able to get himself to leave. 

It was still early enough that Charles didn’t have to worry about running into any students, or any teachers, for that matter. He stepped out into the empty hallway and took a deep breath, leaned against the wall and took a deep breath again. He had to resist the urge to slide down the wall and sit down and cry for a few hours. 

He looked down at his watch. He still had about ten minutes before he needed to get in the car, which meant he had ten minutes to continue standing in the hallway and pretending that today was just a normal day. He tipped his head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling tiles. 

Minutes passed. Charles could hear footsteps here and there, one set that probably walked right by him. Usually in the mornings he tried his best to greet everyone he passed, and the other teachers had started to respond in kind, but whoever it was who passed him must have known that this week was different. He slipped a hand over his face, trying to keep his cool. He probably had to leave soon. 

Another set of footsteps came, got louder, stopped right next to him. Charles opened his eyes and saw Moira, watching him like she was sure he would break if she came too close. 

“I’m okay.” Charles said, and he was mostly saying it to himself, testing the logic of repeating a lie enough times to make it true. Moira raised an eyebrow at him. She sighed softly, and she probably would have given Charles a hug if her hands weren’t full carrying curriculum boxes full of pipe cleaners and construction paper and new packs of glue sticks. 

“We miss you,” she said, “especially your kids.”

Charles tried to smile as Moira’s words wrapped around him in some sort of spoken hug. He didn’t want to leave. He really needed to leave. 

“I miss me, too.”


	14. the one where charles' friends are insane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: this is probably--not probably, i can guarantee--not how courts actually work. i tried my best to make it believable but you know guys just go with it if something seems fishy. just go with it. do it for him (charles)

There was a tension in the courtroom that Charles hadn’t felt in the last two days. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like what it suggested: that something might have gone wrong. He tried to look neutral anyway, even as he could feel more eyes on him from the other side of the room. It was crowded, because everyone knew that the judge would probably give the final ruling today. Moira and Emma had even taken off to watch, to be there either to celebrate or console, depending on how the day ended. 

Charles shifted uncomfortably as things started up again after the court had broken for lunch, the stenographer typing away as the judge went through formalities. He wiped the sweat from his face. Something was wrong, he could tell. Janos looked like he had caught onto it too. He raised an eyebrow at Charles and Charles shrugged, gave him a brief look of worry because  _ I have no idea what’s going on either. _

“Your honor,” the district’s lawyer stood up, “when my client agreed to face a civil lawsuit in court, there was no warning that the prosecutor would be undermining the operation of the school district behind our backs.”

Janos turned and stared wide eyed at Charles, and Charles probably looked the same, trying to figure out why that accusation would be made. He couldn’t think of anything he’d done that qualified as  _ undermining the operation of the school district.  _

Janos stood up.

“Forgive me, but can you explain exactly what you are accusing my client of.”

Charles dared to look over at where the defense was seated, and sure enough he was being hit with countless glares. He could feel his face heating up and he looked down at his lap.

“In the past two days the district has received over two hundred letters and emails from the part time employees they hire for services and utilities,” He held up a rather shocking stack of letters and email printouts, and the judge nodded for him to step up and hand them over, “All of which state that the companies will nullify current contracts or refuse future contracts if Charles Xavier isn’t allowed to teach his class.”

Charles’s jaw literally dropped. 

“I can’t think of a reason that this  _ wouldn’t _ be the work of Charles Xavier.” He explained, and moved back to stand at the defense. Charles lifted his head up, trying to gauge reactions. The jurors just looked surprised, but the judge flipped through all of the letters and she seemed almost...amused? Charles still couldn’t process what had just happened. 

“Your honor, regardless of who is responsible for alerting these companies that Juniper’s school district is violating our city’s anti-discrimination laws, I don’t see why this is relevant.” Janos said coolly, pressing his hands to the surface of the table. 

The judge raised an eyebrow, and she looked over at Charles and Charles was certain that this was where he was going to die, in this courtroom. He was going to die here. 

“Did you give this information to all of these companies, knowing that it might result in refusing contracts with your school district? Remember that you are under oath.”

“I...didn’t.” Charles choked out, “I promise I didn’t. I had no idea this was happening.”

“Your honor, neither Charles’ sexuality nor the district’s response to it are private information. Anyone could have found out. Anyone could have contacted these companies about it.” 

She flicked her eyes to Janos, and Charles still couldn’t read her at all. 

“It looks like we have a vigilante on our hands then, doesn’t it.”

Somebody in the audience tried to stifle a laugh. Charles didn’t want to look back and see who it was, but he did turn his head just a little so he could glance at Erik, who looked equally confused. At the very least it meant that this chaos wasn’t Erik’s doing. 

“Mr. Quested is right, this information has no relevance.” The judge looked over at the defendant, and the super and deputy super trying to not look as angry as they were, watching their one weapon being discarded. “Although it could have been something for the school board to consider before taking the actions against Charles Xavier that they did this last fall.”

Now there was a less-successfully stifled laugh. Charles pretended that he couldn’t tell it was Azazel from the back of the room. The letters had been dismissed; he would be fine. 

“There’s one more thing.” 

_ Oh, fuck me.  _

The district’s lawyer walked up with more, a yellow envelope that he handed to the judge. 

“This arrived at the district office yesterday. If you open it you’ll see that somebody at Juniper Elementary School convinced almost ninety percent of the staff there to sign a petition.”

“A petition for what?” She asked, even though she was opening the envelope, flipping through the pages inside. 

“A petition that says that if the district fires or transfers Charles Xavier...all of them will quit.”

Charles made a choking noise in the back of his throat and the courtroom was suddenly full of commotion, a mixture of surprise and outrage and excitement. 

“Your honor, this is manipulation, pure and simple. The kind of blackmail that warrants the phrase ‘homosexual agenda’. I don’t see why Mr. Xavier is claiming discrimination when it looks more like he’s trying to singlehandedly take down the school district.” He was raising his voice in the end, not like a man who was about to win but more like a man who was cornered before a loss. 

At this point Charles had no fucking clue what was going to happen. Whoever it was that had contacted all of those companies, whether or not it was the same person who got a petition going around the school, Charles didn’t ever think he could be that important for anyone to do something like that. He was probably seconds away from crying out overwhelmed, overexerted tears, and when the judge turned to Charles and asked again if the petition was his doing, all he could do was shake his head back and forth and try to keep himself together. 

Janos glanced at him in concern, and then shifted his focus back to dismissing this petition from being used against Charles, as if it ever could be. 

When Charles’ thoughts quieted enough for him to listen, he could hear the judge speaking, louder, more clear, like she had known what she was saying before she’d stepped in the room. 

“Regardless of the information presented to the court today--presented awfully late, I might add--both have been ruled out for being irrelevant and unknown to the prosecutor until today. Unless the jury deems it necessary to reconvene given these two items, the court has already made a decision.”

Charles watched as the jury foreperson nodded to the judge, a slip of paper passed around until it reached the clerk. The clerk spoke clear and loud. 

“Will the people in the well of the courtroom please stand.”

Charles held his breath. He wanted to turn around, to look at Erik, Moira, all of them, all of the people who had been supporting him for so long, but he couldn’t move. He stared up at the judge, the clerk, the faces of the jury, all of the people about to tell him the course of his life after today, and all he could do was hope to god that these past few months hadn’t been for nothing. 

“The laws in place already state that firing Charles Xavier from his teaching job on account of his sexuality would be considered discriminatory, and even though there is no proof that the defendant would have fired Mr. Xavier if this lawsuit had not been filed, it is clear that the other actions taken, most notably the intrusive investigations and the second background check, were for the purpose of finding a reason to fire Mr. Xavier where there is none. 

It appears Mr. Xavier has fallen into a gray area of prejudice that is not appropriately covered by any anti-discrimination legislation leading up to this point, however, the court has decided that the information given on the treatment of Charles Xavier by the school board, after his sexuality was revealed, is inarguably discrimination.”

It seemed that everyone in the courtroom was holding their breath. The air was silent save for the steady voice of the clerk and the quick typing of the stenographer. No clear answer had been given yet. Behind his back Charles was twisting his own hands together so tightly that he could feel his fingers going numb. 

“Based on the evidence presented and the current anti-discrimination laws in the city of Austin, the court has ruled that in this case, Charles Xavier’s rights as a citizen of the United States and of the city of Austin have been violated on account of his sexuality.”

Charles let out the breath he had been holding, and, although he didn’t notice it then, he let out the tears he had been holding also. The judge cut in, and she seemed to go off book, addressing the defendant more than anyone else in the room. 

“It seems that the district and the school board owe Charles Xavier a massive debt, and a massive apology. The subtle but harmful discrimination that he experienced is almost barely overlooked by the law, and will likely be considered in order to amend the laws already in place. The jury is thanked and excused. Court is adjourned.”

Charles couldn’t stop himself from crying out in relief, but the sound that escaped his throat was lost in the roar of the courtroom. He noticed then, the steady stream of tears rolling down his face, but he didn’t even care. Janos gave Charles a heavy pat on the back, a genuine smile after all the stress they’ve been through together. Not a sympathetic crier, but his relief seemed to mimic Charles’ own, like he still couldn’t believe it.

“Hey, cheer up. We just won.” 

“I know,” Charles laughed, still choking on all of the emotion caught in his throat, “I know, I’m sorry, I’m terrible.” 

He rubbed at his eyes and Janos turned away to pack up his briefcase. Charles looked up, expanding his field of vision to the rest of the room instead of just the small radius of where he was standing. Clearly all of his friends were waiting for him to do so, standing clustered in the front pew and all but staring him down. All of them had stupidly big smiles--even Emma--and seeing them only made Charles cry harder. 

“Now get out of here.” Janos said from behind him, pushing Charles forward a little bit. Charles obeyed, feeling lightheaded and almost like he wasn’t in his own body, stumbling out of the well and into the arms of his friends. Moira was getting teary eyed already and she held out her arms to pull Charles closer. 

“It was you, wasn’t it.” He said, trying to sound accusatory but he was too happy to be able to fake any other emotion. Moira laughed. 

“Half of it.”

She pulled away and Angel and Azazel were next to them, looking awfully pleased with themselves.

“Good god, all of you are insane.” 

“It was supposed to be a backup plan in case you lost, but then I decided I wanted to see the look on their faces when they realized the shit they’d gotten themselves into.” Azazel said.

“Man, you almost ruined me with that.”

“I think that was his way of saying thank you.” Angel raised an eyebrow at Charles, exchanged a look with Azazel and really, Charles wasn’t even slightly mad at them. 

“I think it was.” Azazel agreed. 

“Thank you.” Charles choked out, his entire body almost shaking with emotion. Emma tutted and wrapped an arm around his shoulders as he continued to cry like the absolute wreck he was. 

“They are insane.” Emma said quietly, and her voice sounded a fraction as composed as it normally was, edged with joy and light. “I signed that petition, though.”

“You didn’t.”

“She did.” Moira cut in. 

Charles realized that someone was missing, even though he was being smothered in more attention and physical contact than he could process. 

“Where’s Erik?” 

“Over there, calling your sister I think.” Angel pointed towards the other side of the courtroom, and Erik was there in the back, at the wall next to the door talking on the phone. He was smiling so big, with all of his teeth, that it really should have been terrifying. But Charles saw him and all he could think was that he was so completely, ridiculously in love with this man. 

Without really thinking he untangled himself from everyone and made his way towards Erik. Erik caught sight of him and hung up the phone, shoved it into his pocket and took long strides to meet him halfway. 

They all but collided in the middle of the aisle, laughing and smiling and without a second thought Charles leaned up and pressed their mouths together. In the middle of the courtroom, in front of god knows who, he wrapped his arms around Erik’s shoulders and kissed him, feeling like his heart was about to explode. And maybe it already did, he didn’t care. 

He could hear their friends cheering and whistling but he drowned it out, focused on the feeling of Erik’s smile against his lips and the way they were holding on to each other, the need to be close as strong as the need to live, to breathe.

“Now will you let me tell you that I love you.” Erik mumbled, pulling their faces only a few inches apart. 

“You’re so weird.” Charles breathed, and kissed him again. 

 

-

 

Word must have gotten out about the lawsuit, because there were people crowded in the halls of the courthouse and on the steps outside, people of all ages that Erik had never even seen before, showing subtle solidarity in their rainbow pins and stickers and patches. They were cheering as Charles and Erik stepped outside of the courtroom, holding hands and hardly able to look away from each other long enough to see where they were going. 

Once they exited the courthouse there was a flurry of pictures taken, some local news stations shoving microphones in people’s faces. Erik stood behind Charles while he gave a few statements, sounding exasperated and still wiping tears from his eyes and smiling so much Erik figured that, in the past hour alone, he’d already made up for those months of hell he’d been through in order to get here. 

He couldn’t seem to stop touching Charles, now that he knew that Charles wouldn’t tell him not to, that Charles wouldn’t feel ashamed anymore. He laced their fingers together and wrapped his arms around him and let his hand rest on Charles’ shoulder, his arm, his back. For the rest of that day he couldn’t convince himself to stop. Luckily Charles didn’t seem to mind. 

They were going to walk somewhere to get dinner, to celebrate, but they just ended up wandering. Almost like that first day of court, but without the nervous energy of Charles driving aimlessly around town. They stopped halfway across Congress Avenue bridge, just as the sun had started to set. Erik watched as the city of Austin slowly started to light up in its absence. He draped his arm across Charles’ shoulders and Charles tucked his head under Erik’s chin, held on to Erik’s waist to pull them close. 

The wind picked up over the river, a poor excuse for an Austin winter, and even though it was hardly cold Erik held on tighter. Together they stared out over the water at the city where maybe, after today, they’d finally made themselves welcome. 

“I think I’m going to write a book.” Erik said.

“A multilingual introduction to the American legal system.” 

Charles sounded relaxed, finally. His voice, when it wasn’t weighted down with stress and dread and self-hatred, was sweet and soft and sounded better through Erik’s ears than any other music in the world. 

Erik breathed out a laugh. 

“Not another language book, I don’t think.”

“What will it be about?” Charles asked, and Erik felt his face soften. Maybe he was smiling again, for what must have been the thousandth time. He thought for a minute. 

“It’ll be a book about you. About us.”

  
_ end.  _


	15. (epilogue) the one where marie realizes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :^)
> 
> writing this fic has been such a great experience for me, and i wouldn't be here if it wasn't for all of you and your continued support  
> i hope i was able to write the ending that all of you need

Funny enough, the book that finally got the  _ Operation: Integration  _ project off the ground and into the public eye wasn’t about language at all. It was a standalone book Erik published a year later called  _ Love is Love _ , a book that shot up into every bestseller chart in less than a month. After that, everyone found out about his other books, and schools across the United States were suddenly demanding copies of their soon-to-be-completed K-12 education package. 

Azazel had to double their staff just to handle all of the emails they were getting. 

Charles was, of course, immensely proud of him. After a while Erik developed this habit of always saying that  _ if it weren’t for you, Charles, we’d still be just a startup _ which was, if Charles was being honest, at least half-true. But Charles would still claim that the best thing he did for Erik’s career was teach him how to talk to children, because that seemed to really come in handy once Erik started going on book tours almost twice every year to visit elementary schools across the country. 

The Statesman wrote an article about the two of them, from their working together to get Erik’s books sold to Charles’ court case and finishing with  _ Love is Love _ . Somehow in her time spent interviewing them that summer their journalist managed to get a picture of the two of them downtown, holding hands and laughing about something, with banners for Austin Pride hanging from the streetlights behind them. It was both Charles and Erik’s profile picture for a long time. 

So everything, and everyone, turned out alright in the end. 

Marie’s parents transferred her to another school as a hail mary, their final act of protest against the court’s ruling that gay people are allowed to exist. 

It was hard to say goodbye, especially considering that Marie didn’t quite know why she was leaving, only that a few months ago she’d drawn a picture, and now she couldn’t go to the same school anymore. But she was young, and Charles knew that it was just a matter of time before the memories faded and she no longer worried about what she had done. 

He stayed at Juniper for almost a decade as the school slowly became a model school for foreign language education. Which drove Emma insane, at one point, because every other school in the city was trying to get them to host seminars for their teachers. She always just responded by redirecting them to Erik’s email (which drove  _ Erik _ insane). But after a while almost every school in Austin was teaching out of Angel’s curriculum, and their libraries were stocked with copies of Erik’s books. Some of them even had  _ Love is Love _ on campus for any student to read and check out and bring home to their families. 

Juniper was running better than it ever had, and finally Charles knew it was time for him to move on. He’d been offered jobs at other schools here and there once the story got around. He always ended up turning them down, though. He wanted to go somewhere where he was needed, not as a bisexual poster-boy or as the face of a movement, but as a teacher. 

There was a school downtown that hadn’t even offered to hire him, just asked out of the blue one year if he could help out with the day camps they held for their students who needed a safe place to be during the summer. After his first few weeks of volunteering there, he knew that was where he wanted to be. And then it was his mission to get on staff. 

He had settled easily into his new job there (and subsequently settled into the new apartment he’d bought with Erik). It was definitely less comfortable than Juniper, though, which struck him as hilarious. Years ago he’d been terrified before starting out at Juniper. He couldn’t imagine if he was the person he’d been  _ then _ , starting out his teaching career here, where the school’s budget was hanging by a thread and his class was more than twice as large and the students weren’t all coming from nice, suburban homes. 

But now, Charles knew he would be fine. 

He was just helping to clean up his room after a particularly wild school day, picking scrap pieces of construction paper out of the carpet so their understaffed janitors could have a bit of a break, when there was a knock on his classroom door. 

“Mr. X?”

Charles’ first thought was  _ student _ , but the person’s voice didn’t sound like it was one of his kindergarteners. On the other hand, nobody above the age of six ever called Charles  _ Mr. X _ . He stood up from where he’d been on the carpet on all fours, feeling a little embarrassed that someone had seen him like that, when he froze. 

It didn’t take long to recognize who was standing at his door. It was Marie Caldecott, years and years older, but with the same bright, intelligent eyes and slightly shy demeanor. She had a blonde streak in her hair, now, which Charles guessed was a sign that she’d grown to be a little rebellious of her conservative upbringing. She was smiling at him, nervous, clearly afraid to come inside. 

“Marie! Come in. Don’t worry, I was just doing some manual labor.”

He tried to be funny and it halfway worked; she laughed a little bit and came inside. 

“You can sit on one of the tables. The chairs are a little small.” Charles gestured for her to sit down at a kid-sized table and he leaned against the edge of his desk. 

“It’s great to see you, Marie, how old are you now?”

“Almost eighteen,” she said, and then answered his next question with, “I leave for college in a few days.”

“You’re kidding.” Charles was grinning like a lunatic, probably. He raked a hand through his messy hair. “It’s been that long. Wow.”

“Yeah.” Marie breathed, probably sick and tired of hearing that kind of thing from all of the adults in her life. But Charles couldn’t resist. He’d seen lots of students leave his kindergarten classes and continue to drop in during the rest of their elementary school years, but never a  _ high school graduate _ . He supposed it was fitting, seeing as she came from his very first class of kindergarteners.

“Where are you headed?”

“Boston University.” She smiled a little bit at the topic, no doubt thrilled to be getting out of Texas after spending her whole life there. “I’m studying journalism.”

“That’s wonderful! And rather fitting, in my opinion.”

“Really?”

“I doubt you remember, but towards the end of the semester you’d turned into one of my main sources of information when the other kids were causing trouble.”

“Oh.” Marie laughed. It was true. Although Charles hated how some people called it “tattling”, Marie was a real source of truth. Especially when it concerned the sort of bullying and troublemaking that teachers don’t easily notice. 

“So,” Charles started. Now that Marie seemed more comfortable, he went ahead and addressed the elephant in the room, “I am thrilled to see you, but I can’t help but wonder why you decided to come out here to visit me. And how you even managed to find me in the first place.”

“Well…” she focused on the wall behind Charles, clearly still a little shaky about direct eye contact, “I actually went down to Juniper first, but you weren’t there, but Miss McTaggert told me where to find you. I’m kinda surprised she recognized me.”

At first Charles was confused because Moira never mentioned Marie coming to look for him, because that’s exactly the sort of Juniper gossip she made phone calls for, but then he remembered that she had that  _ thing _ about surprises. Marie was looking at him again and he nodded for her to keep going.

“I wanted to find you because...I did this research paper, towards the end of the year, and um, it was about notable events in the gay rights movement here in Austin.”

Charles’ mind immediately went back to that article, that picture of him and Erik laughing with each other on the front page of the Life & Arts section. He smiled to himself. 

“And I found an article that was written about you and Erik Lehnsherr a year after you were my teacher. After…” she trailed off, blushed a little bit, caught herself again, “I mean, I finally realized what had happened that year.”

“Oh, dear.” Charles said, He could tell that she must have felt terrible when she found out, by the way her cheeks were turning pink and she kept nervously breaking eye contact and then looking back to him again. 

“I just wanted to say--I know I probably said it back then, but now that I actually  _ understand _ what had happened--I wanted to say I’m sorry. If it weren’t for that stupid drawing you would never have had to go through that.”

Charles pursed his lips. He hated seeing her feel guilty back then, and he still hated it now. He reached back for one of the picture frames sitting on his desk, the biggest one, and set it back down so the picture was facing her. 

Except it wasn’t a picture; it was the drawing she’d made back in kindergarten, the one with Charles and Erik holding hands surrounded by little pink and red hearts. Marie gasped, smiled, laughed in surprise and--Charles hoped--relief at seeing that stupid little drawing. 

Charles then held up his left hand so she could see the gold wedding band on his finger. 

“I wanted to scan it and put it on our wedding invitations, but that was where Erik drew the line.”

“I cannot believe you kept that.”

“Look,” he said, more serious, “I’m not going to lie to you. Those were probably the hardest few months of my life. But I’m glad you drew this. If you hadn’t accidentally outed me to everyone, I don’t know how long I would have had to keep pretending to be something I’m not.”

“So you’re not mad about any of that? Not even a little bit?”

“Not even a little bit.” 

“Okay. Okay good. I was worried, I felt so horrible when I realized--”

“Hey, no more of that.” He waved his hand dismissively. “If anything I should be thanking you.”

Marie nodded, probably a little lost from how much this conversation had strayed from her expectations. But she kept smiling at him, like she couldn’t be compelled to stop, and that’s how Charles knew that she was going to be alright. 

“I think you’ll make an incredible journalist, by the way. I mean, look at this.” Charles held up the picture frame, admiring her artwork for probably the millionth time, “You could probably cite this as your first work of investigative journalism. Uncovering the truth about Mr. X and his secret gay lover Mister Erik.”

She snorted. The two of them seemed to have run out of things to talk about, then, and Charles figured that Marie probably had much more to do before she left for college, more loose ends to tie up. 

“It was lovely to see you, Marie.”

“You too, Mr. X.” Marie said, and she was almost to the door when she turned back around, 

“I know I wasn’t in your class for very long, but I always remembered you. Even when my parents told me to forget about what happened.”

Charles didn’t quite know what to say, only that if he said anything more he would get dangerously close to crying. Marie spoke up again. 

“I’m glad I finally learned the truth.” 

They waved to each other as Marie, so grown up already, about to leave home, walked out of his classroom for the last time. After she’d left Charles felt something like relief, like the last sliver of doubt leaving his mind as he believed once and for all that it was all worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AMAZING THINGS PEOPLE HAVE MADE:
> 
> [this gorgeous edit](http://poetdameron.tumblr.com/post/149300291744/all-my-favorite-fanfictions-you-are-my-sunshine) by poetdameron


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